Should We Meet Again
by Ulfcloak
Summary: Talon is forced to train the Crimson Elite's newest recruit, and their growing bond changes him. Over time, losses both forgotten and unforeseen put both Talon and Valoran itself on a path no one expected. What unlikely bonds will allow our heroes to stand against the looming darkness? AU in which Talon is Quinn's "dead" sibling. Part 1 of 2.
1. Chapter 1

A young man stood amongst a seemingly endless sea of trees and wildlife. Autumn leaves peppered the grass around his feet, their brilliant hues being augmented ever so gently by the rays of sunlight that shone through the canopy. A gentle breeze caressed his face, anchoring his thoughts in the present moment. It was so serene, so familiar. Something inside of him felt like he'd known this place forever.

 _"Come on, Caleb. Hurry up!"_

A girl was in front of him now, weaving through the wilderness, her indigo hair trailing behind her. Her amber eyes watched him, beckoning him to follow. The boy could feel the smile stretching across his face as he ran after his sister. Out on the outskirts, there was little more enjoyable than playing in the forests with her. It was so strange, this joy. It came so naturally, and yet at the same time, it seemed so foreign. Time seemed to disappear as he continued on, fading from his mind and becoming an almost an incomprehensible concept as he chased after his sister's back.

Eventually, his brain began to register some inconsistencies. Tiny seeds of doubt and suspicion that had been planted in his brain since the beginning began sprouting and growing until he could ignore them no more. Where was he? How did he get here? He had no memories to answer these questions. If fact, he seemed to have no memories at all. That was okay, wasn't it? He should consider himself lucky to find himself in such a serene place on little more than a whim. Despite his contentment, trained instinct began to take control, and he desperately wanted for an explanation to all of this. His gaze turned once again to the girl ahead of him. Perhaps his sister knew the answer.

 _"Hey, hold on -."_

Wait, what was her name? Why couldn't he remember her name? She was his sister, his best friend, his companion, and he couldn't remember her name. The young boy looked on as his sister stopped and turned around in compliance to his request. But that was when he truly knew something was amiss. Her face, the face he was sure he'd known his entire life, appeared as nothing but a blur. The amber eyes he knew she had, the boyish confidence that always augmented her expression, the charming smile that could brighten any day; all of them were gone.

 _"What's wrong, Caleb?"_

With that question, the world around him began to crumble apart. The beautiful autumn scene withered to a decrepit black. The boy's emotions changed with his surroundings. His contentment had been replaced with various feelings: anger, regret, and most prominently of all, fear. 'What's wrong?' she asks? Everything was wrong. None of this was real. She wasn't his sister and this wasn't his home. Caleb? No. His name was –

"Talon!"

The assassin jolted awake to the sensation of being shaken rather violently. It took him a second to gather what exactly was going on. He was lying down on something, the ground, presumably, and a clear night sky loomed over him. The ambient starlight lit up the surrounding tree line. On her knees beside him was ad new comrade of his, a comrade that was wearing a very concerned and very real face.

 _It was that dream. Again._

"Riven, why did you wake me? Is it my watch?" he asked.

The young woman visibly relaxed at her mentor's return to consciousness. "You looked like you were having a bad dream," she answered. "And no, your watch isn't for another couple of hours."

Talon returned her statement with a displeased stare. Riven quickly caught his meaning and elaborated. "It's not like I abandoned my post just to do you a favor," she explained, "You were making noise, a lot of it. It was kind of difficult to concentrate with you grunting and moaning in your sleep."

He took a deep breath and eased his body for the first time since he awoke. "Then, you have my thanks. I apologize for disturbing you."

"No problem," the white-haired swordswoman answered. She gave the assassin a brief smile before returning to her "post". Despite being deep in Demacian territory, they both knew their two-man camp was practically undetectable. Taking turns sleeping was more of a precaution against dangerous wildlife stumbling onto them than a defense against enemy troops.

Talon watched her back as she walked away from him, being reminded of the scene from his dream. Riven was certainly no sister to him, but she was far more agreeable than the Du Couteau siblings. Unlike those two, she was happy to let him have his space and could easily read him through a simple glance. The ranks of the Crimson Elite were thin, and they were bound to be gradually filled with pompous conceits who think themselves unmatchable, but if he could find a way to work with this girl every now and then, the relief it would afford him would make the rest more than bearable.

Talon spent a few minutes trying to fall asleep; however the rest he sought ultimately escaped him. Growing increasingly frustrated with his idleness, the Noxian assassin rose to his feet and stretched, resolving to stay awake up to and through his scheduled watch. He would be losing more sleep than he had planned to, but his assignment was not too demanding, and he was confident he could get away with it. Seeing nothing better to do, he sat up, picked up his arm blade, and took out his honing steel.

"Not going back to bed?" Riven asked from across the campfire.

"I can't," he answered as he ran his steel over his blade's edge. The motion was beyond habitual by this point. He supposed he likened it more to an addiction than anything else.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Riven wasn't expecting him to say yes. She wouldn't classify him as a "quiet type", but he did tend to keep his feelings to himself.

"Do you ever have dreams that feel real?" he asked.

Hearing him say that in his remarkably deep voice was incredibly funny to Riven. "I'm not sure what you mean. Don't most dreams feel like they're real when you're having them?"

Talon shook his head. "I mean dreams that feel more like memories than dreams."

"I can't say I have," she answered. "I've had dreams of things that have happened, but not a dream that I still felt could have happened even after I woke up." She tried to think of what he could have dreamed about, but soon realized how little she truly knew about him. She, like most people, knew he was an urchin that eventually came into the service of Lord Du Couteau, but nothing beyond that. She was beginning to become genuinely curious in the man called the Blade's Shadow. "So, what did you dream about?"

The man sighed, as if preparing himself for some great undertaking. Though his hands continued their motion, his eyes were out of focus. Whatever he was seeing, it wasn't there. "I was in a forest… with a girl."

"Oh? Was she pretty?" Riven teased. Her attitude changed immediately as Talon shot her a glare that was sharper than the spare dagger he kept in his boot. She had to remember that she was talking to one of Noxus's most feared assassins and not her friends back at the barracks. She cleared her throat to signal a sort of apology. "Please, continue."

"I'm not sure how I knew, but the girl was my sister, and the forest was my home. We were playing together and I was… happy. Eventually my sense took over and I realized that it wasn't real. That was about when you woke me up."

Riven didn't speak up immediately, instead pondering his description of his dream. "How did you realize it wasn't real?" she eventually asked.

"I couldn't remember her name," Talon replied. "She also had no face."

"I see. That's bound to raise some suspicion, I suppose," Riven said. The look on his face was one she had yet to see in her few days since meeting him. His usual stone-cold expression had given way to uncertainty.

"So when you say that you feel like it was real, do you mean you think you have a sister somewhere out there?" Riven asked.

"Maybe," he responded. "I knew too much about her for her to have been some random figment of my imagination."

"But didn't you say you were in a forest?" she asked. "I thought you grew up in Noxus."

Talon's gaze returned to the blade in front of him. "To tell the truth, there's a decent period of time that I can't account for at all. Judging by my teeth and when puberty hit me, my first memories are around the age of ten. By that time I was already in the streets of Noxus with nothing but the clothes on my back and a knife."

"So you really might have a sister somewhere out there?"

"I suppose I might, but it makes little difference at this point in my life. Even if I found her, she would likely want nothing to do with me; and the last thing I need is a potential hostage to be used against me."

He had a point. Still, she was glad to have been able to talk with him so easily; she never expected to hear anything from him that wasn't mission-related. At this point, she just wanted to keep the conversation going. "You know I'm surprised you seem so troubled over a dream about a girl in a forest instead of say… nightmares about kills you regret. I'd figure that would be common in your line of work." Riven internally winced. That wasn't exactly an ideal conversation topic for people who barely knew each other.

"I'm no murderer, Riven," Talon remarked. "I regret none of what I have done. When you go to war, regardless of your cause, you resign yourself to the possibility of death at the blade of the enemy. All of my targets had accepted that fact, and if they hadn't, they were fools who had no business with power in the first place. Even in my days on the streets, I never killed anyone I didn't absolutely have to. I'll admit I have developed an affinity for the art of killing, for the thrill of the hunt, but when I do so, I do it out of duty or the need to survive, nothing else."

That was certainly not what she expected to hear. She was honestly quite surprised that such an infamous and intimidating figure lived by such a philosophy. Though when she gave some thought to what she knew of his background, she supposed it made sense. He killed to survive, he had to. The only reason he was here was because Lord Du Couteau would have killed him otherwise. He killed dozens of guild representatives trying to stay on his own. He never wanted this life; in fact, he spent a fair portion of his life prior actively trying to avoid fighting for a cause he didn't believe in.

"What about you, Riven? What made you join the Crimson Elite? Why are you here?"

"Out of loyalty to Noxus," she answered. "This nation is the only one that truly recognizes and respects an individual's talents, and I have that to thank for all of the success I've met so far. After what they've done to help me cultivate my strength and become the best that I can be, I owe it to Noxus to fight to the best of my ability, and at the highest calling I can answer."

That was a textbook answer if Talon had ever heard one. He now understood why she was sometimes called the poster child of the Noxian ideal. At least her faith was rewarded; the rune blade she carried was one of the finest he had come across, and she was quite good with it. Once she learned how to properly use that wind enchantment of hers, few would be able to stand against her. She would definitely be one to keep his eyes on.

"And you, Talon? I know your loyalties are to General Du Couteau and not Noxus. Can I trust you to have my back out there?"

Talon smiled at that. It wasn't ever y day he came across someone who was smart enough to question her allies' fidelity. It may be unwarranted amongst the numbers of the Crimson Elite, but a bit of skepticism went a long way where he was from. Perhaps they would make a good pair after all. "You don't have to worry about me. You'd be killed by a Demacian one hundred times over before you'd meet your end at my blade. It's best you keep your focus on the enemies in front of you than the allies beside you."

"Thanks, I guess," she replied. "You know you look a lot scarier than you really are."

"Our enemies would disagree."

"You know what I mean. When Katarina first told me I'd be apprenticed to _the_ Talon I was a bit nervous. It's pretty relieving to see there's a man behind the name."

He scoffed at her comment. "Is that that she told you? That you'd be 'apprenticed' to me?"

"Isn't that what this is?" Riven asked. "Why else would she send me with you to spy on the Commandos' movements?"

Talon set down his arm blade and sat down across from her. "I'm babysitting you."

"What?"

"You left the standard ranks what, a week ago? There's still a lot you have to learn before we're able to consider you a full-fledged Crimson Elite. The only reason you're here is because Katarina didn't want to deal with a new recruit."

Riven's face was overcome with embarrassment. She hadn't considered the possibility that her commander was just shoving her off onto her little brother. "But Katarina said you would be in charge of all of my instruction until I'm deemed fit to serve."

"She did?"

Riven nodded. "What she didn't tell you?"

"Shit."

"What is it?"

"Well, it looks like I'm going to be in charge of your training from here on out. Let's try to make this as painless as possible, okay?"

"Of course, sir." To think that their sibling dynamic crossed over into the official chain of command of the Crimson Elite… the idea was ridiculous. Still, Riven supposed she preferred something like this to an uptight and by-the-books organization. It gave it a more homely feel. "If you don't mind, Talon," she said with a yawn, "If you're staying up, I'd like to turn in early."

Talon motioned toward her makeshift sleeping area in a display of approval, his talkative mood now seemingly passed. Riven lay down on the dirt, her head resting on a loose piece of cloth from her outfit. Her eyes closed and her consciousness slipped away. She was eager to begin her new life as one of Noxus's finest.

The pair continued their mission in the following week, eventually coming to realize that the entire Demacian military had been mobilized in some capacity. Unwilling to risk an attempt at infiltration with a rookie in his charge and at risk of exposure with so many soldiers about; Talon called a premature end to their operation and returned to Noxus with Riven. If this sudden military action was aimed at Noxus, the services of the Crimson Elite would be needed more than ever. As such, Riven's training would begin immediately.


	2. Chapter 2

The Du Couteau estate offered a wide variety of training rooms that tailored to every aspect of combat imaginable. Regardless of what skill you wanted to improve, or which situation you wanted to prepare for, if you could find the right room, you could train to your heart's desire. The largest of these rooms was its own building. It was intended for sparring, and was the most frequently used by the members of the Crimson Elite. It was also Talon's personal favorite. Over the years he spent with the Du Couteau family it was always in the sparring room that he would find the most improvement. Whether it was a not-so-friendly duel against Katarina or another failed attempt to defeat Marcus, Talon learned the most from actual combat. That is how it had always been for him. Sure, he would spend some of his spare time stabbing away at imaginary soldiers, but he had only gotten as far as he had through putting his life on the line and forcing his way to victory. Every guild ambassador that challenged him only reduced the chances that the next one would survive. However, none of those guild ambassadors wielded a wind-enchanted rune blade that was nearly as large as their own body. Granted, Riven was nearly a head and a half shorter than the assassin, but the blade was excessively large nonetheless.

Riven and Talon had sparred numerous times over the three days that had passed since they had returned. The assassin always emerged victorious, but only by a small and ever-receding margin. Riven's experience with large weapons was beginning to show, and she was also gradually adapting to the way Talon fought. By this third day, Talon was well aware that once she had reached her full potential, he would be thoroughly outclassed in a fair fight. However, that day had not yet arrived, and Talon concluded yet another bout with a blade to his partner's neck.

"Damn it all. I was certain I had you that time," Riven moaned as she lowered her weapon.

Talon followed suit and retreated to a corner of the room in which refreshments and a bench were waiting. "You nearly did," he said, taking a sip of water. "I think the only thing holding you back is your speed. If we can find a way to get you to move faster, you will likely obtain the upper hand."

Riven lugged her blade over to the refreshment corner and sat down. "Believe me, I'd love to, but this thing is so damn heavy. I'm nearly helpless against quicker opponents like you."

The assassin eyed the runes on Riven's sword as he racked his brain for a solution. Magic. Magic was the highest power in Valoran, and everyone knew it. If it could tear the world to pieces, then surely it could help his partner move a bit faster. "Do you mind if I have some time with it?" he asked, gesturing to her blade.

"Knock yourself out," Riven answered as she dumped a cup of cold water on her head. She was clearly not in the mood to continue fighting any time soon.

Talon picked up the massive weapon and walked to the center of the room. He mimicked the stance and grip he had seen Riven use, placing two hands on the hilt and lowering his stance considerably. The assassin swung the blade a few times, trying to get a feel for its weight and balance. He wasn't much of a swordsman himself, but General Du Couteau was insistent that he learn how to use every weapon he could to a moderate level of competency. Great swords and long swords were easily his least favorite, being far too slow and unforgiving in standard use. Every move had to be calculated and precise. He much preferred weapons of the smaller variety, as the speed they allowed their wielder gave him an almost feral sense of ecstasy when he got into a heated confrontation.

After continuing his swinging motions for a bit longer, he let the blade rest. His movements were even slower than Riven's, and he couldn't think of any conventional martial arts technique that would alleviate that. He ran his eyes up and down the rune-inscribed flat of the giant mass of metal. It was then that he had an idea. He had recently become aware that the enchantment on Riven's sword was far more powerful than he had initially thought. A sweeping arc of wind magic flying towards his head during an earlier sparring session had communicated that fact quite clearly. The assassin closed his eyes, and a few seconds of dedicated concentration later, Talon reached out with his senses, trying to tap into whatever magic lay dormant in the weapon. There had to be more it could do than just emit waves of magic, and he was determined to find out what.

In a few moments, Talon had begun to feel the energy sealed within the blade's inscriptions. He had managed to connect with it; the problem now was finding a new way to use it. The use of magic did not come naturally to Talon. The flashiest thing he could do was summon a small flame in his hands after a minute or so of channeling, and he took far too long to tap into enchanted items to effectively use them in combat. He did have his ability to blink to a nearby location every dozen seconds or so, but that took years to develop and even then, it was not very impressive compared to most of his contemporaries' mobility skills.

Riven watched on as her mentor stood completely still for five minutes, doing her best not to laugh. Sometime after Talon's prolonged attempt to control the sword's magic evolved from humorous to outright sad, he managed to fire off the same wind slash that Riven had performed earlier. Having now fully connected to the weapon's enchantment, Talon opened his eyes. Riven noticed his brows furrow as his gaze ran up and down the side of the blade. The runes began to glow, and he continued his examination, taking one hand off of the hilt and continuing to move the sword around in front of him.

"Wait, how are you doing that?" Riven asked as she jogged back into the sparring ring.

Talon signaled her to back away and began to perform various blade maneuvers with only his one hand. He was still fairly slow at first, but his speed was gradually increasing as he continued his dance. He eventually came to a stop and returned the weapon to rune blade to Riven, proceeding to walk over to the room's weapon rack. "The wind enchantment on that sword is incredibly powerful," he said, gravelly voice echoing throughout the room. Talon took an arming sword off of the rack and flourished it briefly before making his way back to his partner. "Use the magic to move the sword, not your body. Once you become accustomed to it, the blade may even come to feel weightless in your hands."

Riven nodded and complied, reaching the same level of connection with the enchantment in a fraction of the time it took Talon to do the same. The assassin gave the white-haired woman some space and entered a ready stance with his own sword. In a few seconds, Riven managed to sustain the weight of the blade enough to wield it with one hand. That was what Talon had been waiting for.

"Look here," he called, drawing the attention of his protégé. "I'm going to show you some of Du Couteau's favorite techniques with a one-hander. I want you to copy them to the best of your ability, understand?"

"Really!? Are you even allowed to do that?" she asked.

"Do you understand?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir."

"Good, now watch closely…"

* * *

Katarina walked through the massive yard of the Du Couteau manor, eager to toss a few daggers into her brother's tasteless blue cloak after a summons to Noxian high command. She couldn't tell if it was the suffocating arrogance or the shitty haircut, but something about breathing the same air as Jericho Swain made her want to stab cute things. Figuring Talon would still be trying to teach the new transfer how to fight a living opponent; she was already on her way to the sparring chambers to steal him for her own stress decompression needs. What she found, however, was quite a departure from her expectations.

Katarina pushed open the double doors that led into the sparring chamber only to be met with an incredibly strange sight. Numerous daggers and other small throwing weapons littered the floor throughout the building, an all too familiar arm blade among them. The walls were visibly damaged in some places, showing marks consistent with magic strikes. She didn't know what had happened here, but it was going to cost a fortune in effort and funds to repair. Seething emerald eyes scanned the room to find whoever was responsible, eventually locating their target in a far corner of the room.

Exhausted and battered, a clearly defeated Talon was sitting on a bench and trying to recuperate. Behind him stood the new girl who was gleefully smiling as she tied her mentor's long messy hair back into its usual ponytail. She seemed to be in a fairly good mood considering it looked like she just got done with the fight of the century. For some reason, seeing Talon like that took the edge off of her stress and put her in a remarkably better mood.

"What the hell happened to you?" Katarina called as she approached the duo. "You look like you got run over by a carriage."

"The new kid," Talon replied. He was keeping his eyes closed in an attempt to ignore the aches that were now echoed throughout his body.

"Really?" she asked incredulously. She cast a glance at Riven who returned it with a nod. "Damn, even I haven't managed to leave him looking _this_ bad. Any chance you've got enough left in you for another round?"

"Can I?" Riven asked, flicking Talon's now finished ponytail about like a cat would its toy. Normally, such an action would be unforgivable, but at the moment, he was too exhausted to care.

"Sure," he answered, eyes opening to look at his adopted sister. He knew why she was here, and he wasn't going to let it happen. "You'd be saving me a beating anyway."

The Du Couteau smirked at her brother and strutted to the sparring ring, kicking the small weapons out of the way of their fight. "Oh, you'll still get yours; I just want to see what the man in your relationship fights like first."

Talon winced as he felt a bit of his pride shrivel and die. He grabbed Riven's arm as she passed, pulling her down to his level. He wasn't going to let Kat get away with that. "Listen Riven, she's faster than me and can blink more frequently. Don't expect her to be in the same place for more than a couple seconds."

"Alright," Riven acknowledged. "Does she have as many hidden blades as you?" Talon simply smiled and she knew she had her answer. Of course she didn't; no one did. The swordswoman ran a hand through her hair as she approached her new opponent. She had never seen Katarina fight before, so she was likely at a pretty severe disadvantage. She likely couldn't use the family sword style against her either, but she might be able to defend against it. Riven also noticed that the eldest Du Couteau fought with a pair of short swords. They would make for a much different fight than Talon's arm blade, but the range was likely similar. This was going to be interesting.

"Talon, can we get a start signal?" Kat shouted.

"Start."

In the blink of an eye, the redhead was gone. Fearing an attack from above or behind, Riven leapt forward a great distance, her physical movement augmented by the strength of the enchantment. Turning around, she saw the assassin running toward her, ready to strike. A bad move. Riven quickly swung her blade in front of her, catching the assassin just before she was in range to attack herself. Metal struck metal and Katarina tumbled briefly before forcing herself back to her feet. If she hadn't managed to catch that swing with her swords, she would be in pretty bad shape. She hadn't anticipated Riven being able to swing this fast, let alone one-handed. She would need to come up with a new battle strategy, and fast.

Riven kept the pressure on, closing the distance between them with a spinning back-swing. Katarina dodged it and blinked a few meters away to buy time. Since she couldn't rely on speed to edge out, she would need to find a way to trade hits, perhaps punish a missed swing. However, there were problems with that. Riven's weapon was significantly longer than hers, and at that weight, Katarina couldn't block it effectively, meaning she needed to keep a fair distance away. What was worse was that at that speed, Riven would likely be able to follow up a missed attack with another that could catch Katarina before she could properly strike. She could see now why Talon had so much trouble; this match-up was terrible for anyone that needed to get close to Riven to win. She knew by now that her only option was to strike at the same time as Riven and somehow avoid taking a hit in the trade.

Riven once again closed the gap with another spin, forcing Katarina to roll backwards to avoid the hit. That was it; that was her opening. If she could get under that swing, she could win. Katarina braced herself as Riven prepared the same windup motion from before. She was going for it again. Katarina blinked forward to strike, but was met with an unexpected surprise. Instead of the standard horizontal swing, Riven had changed her motion and become airborne, beginning a flip. Katarina started her swing, hoping to connect in time. However, as Riven landed, she unleashed a force that forced Katarina off of her feet and into the air. Not wasting a second, Riven immediately charged her blade and lashed out with a wave of energy that collided with Katarina in mid-air, sending her flying across the room until she hit the ground with an audible thud.

Katarina's rolling eventually came to a stop, and she picked herself up from the ground to the sound of Talon's laughter echoing throughout the building. She hadn't heard that sound in a long time.

In the course of returning to her feet, various parts of her body signaled to her that they were no longer fit for duty. This fight was over. "I yield," she called as she picked up her scattered swords. "Were you this good when you transferred?"

"Hardly," Riven answered. "Talon has helped me learn more of this sword's abilities while you were gone. I can do so much that I couldn't before; I feel like a new me!"

"Well, I can't see any reason Father would refuse to deploy you regularly now. I'd say you're more than ready."

"Speaking of," Talon began, "Where is Marcus? He hasn't been here since we got back."

Katarina shrugged. "Beats me, High Command probably has him halfway across Valoran right now. I mean, It's not that unusual for him to vanish and turn up a few weeks later, right?"

"I suppose so; I just thought he'd be here for High Command's judgment on how to respond to the Demacians' movements."

"You don't have to worry about that," the redhead said, rolling her now aching shoulders, "It turns out the soldiers you two saw were chasing after some assassin that killed four people and made a move on Jarvan III." Katarina giggled, "Apparently they thought you did it, Talon."

Talon scoffed. "If it had been me, the king would be dead."

"Did they find the assassin?" Riven asked.

"Not at first. Garen and his Dauntless Vanguard apparently walked right past him. Eventually some ranger named Quinn managed to track the guy down and brought him in on her own. She's turned into something of a national hero."

Something about that name struck a chord with Talon. He knew he had heard it before, but he could not for the life of him remember where. "Is this Quinn going to be any kind of threat? We hardly need another Demacian Commando to contend with."

"We don't know yet," Katarina replied. "It doesn't look like we're going to be very busy in the coming days. If you'd like, you can submit a request to investigate her. I'm sure High Command would love to have you back in Demacia to stir things up a bit."

"I suppose I might," Talon said. "Anyway, I'm going to collect my knives and go see a healer."

"Do you mind if I go with you?" Riven asked.

"Why…?"

"I want to take you out for a drink when you're done. Something to pay you back for all you've done for me."

"Sure… I don't see why not."

* * *

Visits from the family doctor were something of a rarity for Talon. He was rarely ever detected in the line of duty, let alone injured. For the years prior to today that Talon had lived with the Du Couteaus, they had maintained a perfectly healthy relationship that consisted primarily of ignoring each other completely and the occasional silent greeting if they were ever in the same room for more than five seconds. During today's visit, absolutely none of that had changed. He had sat in silence with his eyes closed as the elderly man poked away at various bruises and cuts with well-practiced intent. By the end of it, he was simply told not to do anything strenuous for the next week and he should be fit for duty.

Visits from the family doctor were a rarity for Talon, but haunting the shady corner tables of taverns was not. The life of a prestigious assassin in Noxus was not one that allowed for much free time. More often than not, Talon found himself emaciated and sleeping on a forest floor or stalking through the halls of foreign noblemen, the likes of which would have him killed in an instant should they learn his identity. When he was home, he was being berated by Cassiopeia or serving as Katarina's personal punching bag. One of the few releases he could find was in the taste of a high-quality Noxian brew; so when Riven invited him out to drink to celebrate her progress, he was more than happy to oblige.

The tavern she had chosen was a fairly small establishment that didn't have much going for it aesthetically. If on his own, Talon would likely never have considered giving it a chance. Given its close proximity to the officer's barracks toward the center of Noxus, he could only assume that this place got by on the coin of soldiers with too little time on their hands to find a proper drink. It was also likely that Riven was one of those soldiers. Still, for her to come back here voluntarily, this place either carried some sentiment with her or was better than he was giving credit for. He supposed he'd have the chance to find out soon enough.

Talon followed Riven through the front doors and was immediately confronted by the muddled roar of the tavern's patronage. It had only been two seconds and already this place had already met nearly all of his expectations. The establishment's patrons were almost all soldiers, rambunctious and decidedly carefree, so much so that Talon could barely hear himself think. The staff was scrambling to meet the orders of their customers and was visibly distressed despite their forced smiles. Even the wooden interior, despite being clean as far as he could tell, felt old and dirty. All that was left was the lousy beer and he would have a clean sweep.

His compatriot let him to a table near the middle of the building and they both took a seat. Talon had to admit this was new to him. All the other times he went out drinking, he did so alone. Now that he gave it some thought, he had rarely ever spent time with anyone other than a Du Couteau in a casual setting. When he had, it was undercover. Conversation flowed easily, as he had a part to play, a character. Now that it was just him, he felt lost.

"You okay, Talon?" Riven asked.

"Yeah," he answered. "Just getting used to the place."

"Huh." Riven waved to the bartender in case they weren't noticed upon entering, getting a nod of acknowledgement from the woman behind the counter. Riven then signed something beyond Talon's recognition, which garnered another nod from the bartender. "Hey, is that your real name? It isn't, right?"

That was a question not even Katarina had cared to ask him. He had always been Talon to those who cared, and he didn't think that would change. He could tell her, couldn't he? It certainly wouldn't hurt.

"Back before all of this, when I was just another rat on the streets, I had a friend named Kavyn. He used to call me Bertrand. It's likely not my real name, but it's as close to one as I've had."

" _Bertrand_?" Riven asked with a laugh. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but that doesn't suit you at all."

"You're telling me."

Without a word, a waitress breezed by and dropped off a pair of filled mugs, disappearing into a crowd as quickly as she had arrived.

The assassin eyed the liquid skeptically. "You ordered?" he asked.

"I did. I have a regular order here, when they're busy like this, I can just gesture and they'll know what to bring me. It saves time for both parties."

"What is it?"

"Well, my dear Bertrand, I honestly have no idea. My 'regular' is just whatever local craft is on rotation as the special at the time. It's a bit of a gamble, but I'm pleasantly surprised more often than not."

Talon already regretted telling her his old name. He had thought it a gesture of good will, but it seemed his faith was too easily given. "Funny story, Riven: Kavyn was the first and last person to call me Bertrand before you. Can you guess what happened to him?"

Riven took a swig of her drink and smiled pleasantly before setting her mug back down. "Is he dead?"

"Very astute, I knew I liked you. It just so happens that I killed him."

She gave him an inquisitive glare. "Is that your antisocial assassin's way of saying you don't want me to call you Bertrand anymore?"

Talon smiled and leaned back in his chair; a less than subtle confirmation of her suspicion. "You and I are going to make good partners. We already communicate this well; it's like we were made for each other."

Riven took another gulp of her yet unidentified beverage. "I'm flattered you think so. Are you going to drink?"

The assassin peered down at the contents of the mug in front of him. Riven seemed to be enjoying hers well enough, but he still had his reservations. Regardless, he brought it to his lips and took a drink. To say he was surprised was an understatement. The drink had a predominantly base and earthy taste, something that sincerely worried him at lower end taverns for fear of imbibing actual dirt. However, it was not so strong as to offend, and even managed a hint of a citrus accent in the aftertaste. All in all, it was well above his expectations. Everything went down smoothly and Talon put his mug down with a refreshed sigh. Tonight was going to be a good night after all.

"How is it?" Riven asked.

"Not bad," Talon answered, "far better than what I was expecting."

"I'm glad you like it. I plan on getting to know you better and I was worried you wouldn't open up without something in your system."

"Oh? You want to ask me questions, then?"

Riven nodded. "May I?"

"Only if I get to ask you questions in return."

"That's fine."

"Alright then, shoot."

The swordswoman grinned mischievously and tapped her fingers on the rim of her drink. "Where to start… how about family? What's it like between you and the Du Couteaus? Are you guys close?"

Talon tilted his head in thought for a time before speaking up. "I'd say Katarina is the one I consider closest to being family among them. She and I are close in age and have been rivals since the day I moved in. Over time that rivalry has forged a bond of respect between us, and when she's not using me as an emotional punching bag, she's as much a sister as I could ever have hoped to have. Cassiopeia on the other hand does not care much for me at all. She sees me as an outsider, and has been very clear about that since day one. Still, I suppose we have our moments every few years."

"What about the General?"

"The General is the only man I respect in this whole nation. Everything I have, everything I am, I owe to Marcus. He picked me off of the streets and gave me something that can never be taken away from me: my strength."

"But you view him less as family than Katarina?"

"Yes. To me, he is a mentor more than anything. I received little warmth from him. I was too old and too hardened to waste the effort on, and he knew it. Instead, he would give me a weapon and I would master it. He would give me an obstacle and I would overcome it. He would give me a target and I would kill it. It was through those trials that I grew strong and became worthy of keeping my life. I appreciate all of that, but he was not a father to me. Katarina grew up with me. We struggled together, failed together, and excelled together. For nearly everything that shaped us into who we are today, we were at each others' sides, spurring each other on with either encouragement or jealousy."

"I think I understand," Riven said. "I had imagined it a bit differently, especially between you and Cassiopeia."

"Yes, well, that is how things are. Now, I believe it is my turn to ask you a question."

"It is," she stated. "Fire away."

"How old are you?" he asked.

Riven narrowed her eyes in skepticism. "Is that really all you're going to ask?"

"I will have opportunities for more questions later, won't I? Besides, it's been bothering me for some time now. You were a captain in the army, yet you're so short and young-looking. I haven't been able to nail down your age at all."

"I'm not that short," Riven protested. "Tell you what, how about you just guess?"

Talon shook his head. "I'm not dumb enough to walk into that pitfall. Just tell me."

"Fine," she relented, "I'm twenty-three. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty –five. Why is your hair white?"

"Genetics, it runs in the family," she explained. "Crimson Elite are supposed to fight Commandos, right? Have you ever fought any?"

"I have," he began, "I once crossed paths with the Crownguard siblings."

"What were they like?"

"Garen is intimidating enough, but is ultimately just another man in armor. The sister, however, is in an entirely different league. Luxanna's mastery of magic is beyond that of any mage in Noxus, and her prowess as a strategist at her age is unprecedented."

"She's really that scary, huh?"

"Well, not in the traditional sense, no. From what I've seen of her in my time in Demacia, she is actually a very upbeat and cheerful girl. It is on the battlefield where one learns to fear her."

"I can see why you think so little of Garen now; he seems a little unspectacular."

"Only by comparison," Talon corrected. "He is an excellent swordsman and should never be underestimated."

"I see. Honestly, I didn't expect you to hold our enemies in such high regard; you don't seem the type."

Talon chuckled briefly before finishing his drink. "I don't," he remarked. "I simply think that underselling them to you would be a disservice. As a Crimson Elite, you may very well come face to face with them as well, and I can't have you underestimating them and dying just because I was feeling boastful."

"Oh. I suppose that makes sense. Thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome. I believe you owe me about four answers now, right?"

"Please," Riven started, "That was hardly four questions. It was more like a single, multi-part question."

"Fine, I give, but only because I can't think of four questions right now anyway. So tell me, have you ever had a man before?"

Riven smiled. "I have, but never anything serious. I'm glad to see you're ready to get into the good questions. That's why I'm here, after all. Now then, do you love Katarina?"

Talon didn't answer immediately. He could scarcely believe how quickly this had turned into a contest to see who could ask the more embarrassing question. Though, based on what she had said, this had been her plan all along. She wanted to 'get to know him', and such intimate conversation topics would likely further that cause more than most others. "I did for a time, in my early years at the manor. She is a very beautiful woman, and I was bound to develop feelings being in such close proximity to her. I can't say if any of those feelings still linger, but I like to think I've gotten over it."

"Fair enough. Your turn."

"Do you use long swords to compensate for your height?"

"What kind of question is that?" she asked. "In terms of combat, yes, they offer me advantages that I need given my stature. If you're asking if I have some weird insecurity that I use them to help get over, then no." Riven's face fell as she realized she had fallen for his trick. By even taking that question seriously, she had in part admitted to being at least somewhat self-conscious of her height. The smug look on Talon's face all but confirmed it.

"Good to know," he said, clearly stifling a laugh.

Riven raised her hand and signaled for another round of drinks. "Have you ever thought about leaving?"

"Leaving what?"

"Noxus. You've been all over the world, haven't you? Surely you've found a place you'd rather be. Maybe you've even considered starting a normal life there."

"I'll admit I have thought about it, but my life is bound to General Du Couteau. I will not be leaving any time soon."

"And if it weren't?" Riven asked.

"Ionia, I suppose. It's quiet, and aside from a rampaging serial killer a few years ago, it's overall rather peaceful. There are also few enough people that I could live in relative solitude."

"Would you give up the blade?"

Talon took some time to consider the question. Killing was his life, his art. Even if it could afford him a life of peace, could he truly give it up? "I... I don't know," he eventually muttered.

"Don't push yourself too hard," Riven said, noticing the strained thought apparent on Talon's face, "it's just hypothetical."

"Yeah…" In truth, Talon had been considering the possibility for a long time. General Du Couteau was a fearsome warrior, but no man was immune to death. Should he be taken, Talon would no longer have any ties to Noxus. He could finally leave the damnable nation that ground him into the dirt. Lately, however, Talon's stance had been slowly drifting. He had amassed a great deal of respect for Marcus, and his bond with Katarina was strong. Should they be left without the General, he was unsure if he would be able to separate himself from Marcus's legacy so easily.

The clatter of glass mugs hitting the table's wooden surface interrupted the assassin's reverie. The two warriors immediately began nursing their drinks with renewed vigor.

"It's your turn," Riven pointed out. "Don't tell me I'm losing you after just one drink."

Talon let out a long sigh. "I'm fine. Just thinking a little bit."

"About what?" Riven asked.

"This 'Quinn' we heard of earlier," he explained. "Something about the whole thing troubles me."

"How so?"

"The woman is apparently skilled enough to track and defeat an assassin that managed to give the entire Dauntless Vanguard the slip. That is no easy feat. What's more is that in my visits to Demacia, I have never heard of any up-and-coming rangers by that name. This woman is a threat, and I don't know anything about her."

"Didn't Katarina say you could go spy on her? If you're really that worried, you might as well go."

"I will," Talon began, "but not any time soon. I need to wait for her to fall out of the public eye. Once her heroics are no longer at the forefront of everyone's minds and her life returns to normal, getting close to her will be significantly easier."

"How long will that take?" Riven asked.

"Two, maybe three months, but that's more than enough time for her to start causing problems for us. For someone this dangerous to be unknown to me and suddenly rise to prominence, it's incredibly irksome. I might have to dedicate my next few months to shutting down Demacia's scouting operations before she gets out of hand." Talon groaned as he realized that was likely exactly what he was going to be doing. Skirmishes between Demacian and Noxian scouts were incredibly common, and if Demacia had a new ace up their sleeve, Noxus would begin losing ground in the frontier lands between their kingdoms. While these petty conflicts between scouting parties and distant outposts were the equivalent to tossing pebbles in the grand scheme of things, they were the only concrete conflict between their lands, and therefore, they demanded attention.

After chugging the remaining contents of his mug, he looked at his companion who was eyeing him silently. "In the meantime, we'll need something for you to do. With luck, Marcus will return and we can get you properly introduced. I'm sure he'd like to meet someone of your caliber personally. I'm sure he'll know what to do with you far better than myself or Katarina."

"I'm eager to meet him as well. It's always been a bit of a dream of mine to meet General Du Couteau."

"You shouldn't have to wait long," Talon said. "Knowing him, regardless of what he's doing, he'll be back in time to see Cassiopeia off for her expedition into Shurima next month. You'll be able to see him then."

"I look forward to it." Riven downed the last of her beer and once again signaled for more.

Whether it was to soothe an aching body and relieve the stress of upcoming conflicts or to celebrate the start of a new chapter in life, the pair drank themselves well into the night, igniting the first sparks of a bond that would shape both of their lives.


	3. Chapter 3

Talon scowled as he pulled a dagger out of a fallen Demacian soldier's throat. He cleaned the blood off on the dead soldier's gambeson and looked around. Cold bodies bearing Demacian colors were strewn about the floor in various states of dismemberment. Surviving Noxian troops moved about like a hive of bees, surveying their new home and documenting its stock of supplies. This was the fifth and largest outpost Talon had taken in the past two weeks. Just as he had predicted, fighting on the frontier lands had grown fierce, with troop movements on the border nearly tripling to accommodate. What he didn't expect was for Demacia to draw first blood.

Seemingly spurred on by the attempted assassination of King Jarvan III, Demacian scout legions and border battalions began to attack Noxian frontier outposts in much greater frequency than usual. While it was certainly a surprise, this unexpected turn of events didn't hinder Talon's plans at all. In fact, the Demacians were doing his job for him. All he wanted to do was shake things up in the frontier enough to draw Quinn out to the front lines and see her in action. He had anticipated at least a few weeks of work before she was sent to directly counteract him, but with Demacia throwing the first punch, reports had confirmed her presence on the frontlines before he had even left Noxus. There were, of course, drawbacks to being on the receiving end of the aggression. Already, far more Noxians had died than he had anticipated, and by the time he had arrived to do battle, they had lost several outposts.

Nonetheless, Talon had been hard at work making up for it, and make up for it he had. The dead officer at his feet was just the latest of Talon's victims since the beginning of this little campaign. Normally, he would be thrilled to have so many opportunities do put his blade to work, but so far, he was disappointed. There was hardly a man worth the cost of their gear among the Demacian legions. This wasn't the thrilling dance of combat he had come to love, it was a slaughter.

"Lord Du Couteau, the outpost is clear. Captives were allowed to retreat as per your request. Your orders?"

Talon turned to the lieutenant addressing him. There was not a day in his life he didn't thank his past self for requesting a helmet with his Crimson Elite uniform. He was certain that his men would think far less of him if they could see how annoyed he looked whenever he had to interact with them.

"Clear the bodies before they start to stink," Talon replied. "Have one or two men search the place for intelligence. Bring anything pertaining to the ranger Quinn brought directly to me. I'll be waiting outside."

"Right away, milord."

He would never get used to that. Even after being taken in by Marcus, he rarely had any interactions with anyone who would refer to him with any form of respect. When he went on missions, he was alone; there were no soldiers beneath him to call him 'sir' or lick his boots. It was only on these scarce few missions that required him to cooperate with the common ranks that he was reminded of his prestige and status as a noble, and to be honest, it irked him. While he certainly considered himself more worthy than most of the fools in Noxus that bore the title, he had done nothing to gain the respect of these men. He was no hero that stood fast in the face of impossible odds like Darius, nor was he a brilliant strategist like Swain. He was just a blade in the shadows, hardly something a common soldier would respect. Perhaps it was just that foolish Noxian idealism that drove their admiration: "Strength in all its forms" or something like that. Maybe it was simple fear. Whatever the cause, he disliked being lumped together with the same group of people he had grown to hate his entire life.

The assassin left the outpost to the salute of the perimeter guards and began to scour the surrounding forest. If he was to be living here for the next few days, he would need at least a basic understanding of the surrounding terrain. For all his time spent trying to draw her out, he had yet to even see Quinn. He had become so frustrated as of late that he had started to intentionally let anyone who surrendered go free just so they could report that he was there. If the deaths of her comrades would not bring her out, his name definitely would.

Over half an hour passed and Talon's survey had taken him quite a ways away from his newly taken base. He could not help but to stop and appreciate the gripping silence of the forest. It was a stark contrast to the mortal struggle of warfare he had been immersed in less than an hour before. All that could be heard was the crunch of leaves under his greaves and the gentle breeze whistling its way through the canopy. No wildlife could be heard save for the majestic screech of an eagle that had been circling the area for a few minutes, likely looking for its next meal. Seeing nothing better to do, he decided to take a closer look at his new avian friend. It was flying much lower now than it was before, and if his eyes didn't deceive him, the bird was massive, nearly the size of a small person. Its colors were also quite mesmerizing. Royal blue and yellow feathers fluttered in the wind as it soared through the air. Its… armor was a brilliant gold gave off a glint of sunlight every now and again. The eagle looked down at him and let out another cry, this one far more hostile than the last, its sound coaxing out a primal fear from within the assassin.

*Click*

Talon's heart dropped into his stomach and time stood still as he heard the all-too-familiar sound of a crossbow firing. Being the only person around, he could only assume he was dead in its sights. He reflexively blinked backwards as far as he could, relief overwhelming him as the tell-tale thud of a bolt striking a tree signaled his survival. In an instant, instinctual fear turned into adrenaline, and Talon felt his senses return in a flood of ecstasy. The hunt was on. A terrible grin found its way to Talon's face as he scanned the tree line for signs of his would-be assailant. He could not find them, but he did locate the bolt that was meant for him. The angle at which it struck the tree gave him a decent idea of where they were when they fired, but if they were good enough to get the drop on him, they wouldn't be there anymore. Talon began sprinting towards the archer's last known position, weaving between trees and under low-hanging branches. He was doing his best to make himself as hard to hit as possible; finding his opponent was going to be incredibly difficult, and until he managed to work up the mana to blink again, he couldn't afford to stay still.

*Click*

It was closer this time, much closer. Unable to blink, Talon did his best to stop in his tracks, and quickly threw a dagger in the direction of the shooter. If he was lucky, his assailant would have been leading him with the shot, hoping he would run directly into it. He was wrong. A force pushed his forward leg backwards as a searing pain pierced his thigh. It wasn't fatal, not even close, but it hurt nonetheless. He was not the only one to take a hit, however, as a feminine gasp could be heard in the distance as his knife found its mark.

"Quinn," Talon muttered to himself. The assassin took a look down to see how deep her bolt had gone. It wasn't deep, but not shallow enough to pull out without seriously injuring himself either. How did she even hit him? She didn't lead him and since she didn't hit anything vital, she couldn't have been anticipating him stopping. Did she…? She must have. The only thing that made sense was for her to have considered both options and fired at a middle ground, a shot that would hit him regardless of whether he tried to stop or continued forward. One of his legs would be in the same spot for a very brief time no matter which he chose. She must have known she would be forgoing the chances of killing him with that bolt, but apparently she thought the guarantee of landing anything at all was worth it. Still, to have calculated that position so quickly… just how good was she?

Talon quickly took cover behind a tree and took deep breaths. He was beginning to lose some blood from his leg, and it was starting to make him nauseous. He possessed far more mental fortitude than was required to push past such a thing, but like all things, it did take a bit of time. Plus, if the time between her last two shots was the fastest she could have possibly reloaded, then even if she did circle around and find a clear shot, he would be able to blink again by the time she could fire. The next trade would be his.

Talon drew another throwing knife from his belt and noticed that even through his heavy breaths, he was still smiling. How could he not be? When was the last time someone managed to get the drop on him? When was the last time he was pressured in such a way? When was the last time he felt so alive? All of the trouble he went through over the past month had more than paid off. Hell, he would pay for this kind of thrill. Just a few more seconds and he would be ready to blink, but until then, he had to anticipate where she had relocated to.

The assassin's thoughts were interrupted by a deafening screech just a few meters away from him. He turned to face the source, and lo and behold, it was the eagle, claws bared and looking pissed as hell. The best part, it was coming right for him. He raised his arm blade to intercept the bird's talons, but the force of the bird's swoop knocked him well off-balance. It continued to hold his blade in its claws, pecking incessantly at the helmet whose presence was saving his life many times over. Talon reached up with his off-hand and drove his throwing knife into the bird's side, drawing another deafening screech from the creature. Defying his expectations, the bird persisted in its frenzied struggle, and he soon knew why. To his surprise, another bolt struck his body, this time piercing through his abdominal region. He wouldn't die instantly, but he was certainly in some trouble if he couldn't return to his camp soon. He supposed should count himself lucky. Given the direction of the shot, the bird was blocking his more vital areas. The clever girl must have fired when the eagle shrieked. He couldn't dodge what he didn't know was coming.

Talon forcefully turned the bird aside and caught a glimpse of the ranger that hunted him. She was clad in a blue jumpsuit that was accented in various placed by blue leather and golden colored metal plate. A golden ornament sat atop indigo hair that barely fell to her shoulders. He could see a repeating crossbow strapped across her back that bore the shape of her bird friend. The weapon that she was loading was a far larger and far heavier single-shot crossbow that lacked the flair of the other. Just by looking at it, Talon could tell that the repeating crossbow did not have the stopping power to pierce his armor and kill him. If he was in his traditional garb, that thing would eat him alive, but his Crimson Elite armor was designed for battle, not stealth. Quinn must have heard about it from the freed captives and made the decision to bring a weapon better suited to the job.

Seeing that she did not carry a melee weapon, Talon's next move was clear. In an instant, he blinked to his opponent's side, escaping the grip of the bird in the process. He would relish in her look of sheer terror a little longer if there wasn't a man-sized bird trying to kill him. He stabbed at her heart, but she batted his blade away with the metal perch that covered her right gauntlet. Talon pulled his blade back for another go, but Quinn kicked off of his body and landed a fair distance away from him, a new bolt nocked and ready to fire. At the same time, the bird would be on him in any moment. He didn't have any time. It was embarrassing, but if he wanted to survive, he needed to use the ace up his sleeve.

He always kept enough mana on reserve to use this technique, but it was always a drain. He wouldn't be able to continue fighting after it was used. Talon focused his magical energy, and in less than a second, every blade on his person flew out in every direction around him, tearing through everything they came into contact with. Talon shrouded himself in darkness, becoming invisible to the naked eye and quickly making his escape. He turned back briefly to see that his positioning had been less than ideal. While both Quinn and the bird had taken a few blades, they were both still alive. To his luck, neither of them seemed to be in good enough condition to press the pursuit. He had lived.

After putting a fair distance between himself and Quinn, the assassin released the spell that hid him, eager to conserve what little mana he had left. All he had to do now was return to his camp to receive medical attention for the bolts in his abdomen and right leg. Once he had recovered, he would head back to Noxus. The only reason he was here was for intel on Quinn, and he had acquired it in the most painful and enjoyable manner possible.

Talon's stride devolved to a limp as the adrenaline began to fade and the pain from his wounds became all the more prominent. It was going to cost quite a bit of money to replace all of the blades he had lost, but house Du Couteau had it in droves. In all honesty, he was happy to lose the small fortune on such an occasion. He had a new rival, one that brought the meaning back into his work as an assassin. His thoughts returned to the woman's appearance, and he couldn't help but feel a vague sense of familiarity when he envisioned her. Perhaps they were born to meet each other in battle and a part of him had known that his whole life. With as much fun as that was, he couldn't think of a better explanation that destiny.

"Quinn, huh?" he chuckled under his breath. "We'll meet again."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys, Ulfcloak here. Sorry about the delayed release of this chapter. Between Worlds and my own general inability to write slower scenes like this, this chapter took forever. Anyway, I'd like to take this bit of space to thank everyone who's taking the time to read my story. It means a lot to me that my first fic has gained any audience at all. That being said, let's get on with the chapter so I can make you wait another 2 weeks for the next one.**

* * *

"How could you be so careless!?"

Talon persisted in staring at the ceiling as Katarina's booming voice echoed throughout his bedroom. Typically, he found being yelled at to be extremely vexing, but it was different with Katarina; it was her own twisted way of showing that she cared. Still, he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of eye contact.

"You could have died out there! I swear if you would have sullied the name of house Du Couteau by dying to some peasant ranger, I would have dug you out of the grave and killed you again myself."

Talon continued to remain silent as Katarina began to visibly wind down, her heated breaths slowing and her posture relaxing. The redhead sighed and sat down at the foot Talon's bead, pulling off his blankets and rolling up a leg of his sweatpants to examining his wounds' dressings.

This was the first time anything had been quiet since he had returned. It wasn't unusual for him to return from missions in the dead of night and sneak into his room without a word, and such was the case last night. However, even at that time, the service staff of the manor were brimming with energy and chattering among themselves. Talon had figured it was because word of his fight had reached his family before he did, and they were relieved to see him back. He never did make it back to his outpost after his confrontation with Quinn. Instead, he managed to reach one of the scouting parties that had begun their run of the area and collapsed right in front of them. Noxian rumors have always lacked rarity and credibility, and are therefore often ignored by a majority of people, but when one of Noxus's most well known names is turned into a pincushion and found bleeding to death on the front lines, word travels fast. If you threw the few days he had to spend at the outpost recovering on top of that, it was clear he had no way to beat the news back home.

"Weren't you wearing your armor?" Katarina asked, wincing at the wound in his leg.

"She was prepared for that," Talon answered. "This woman is dangerous, Katarina."

"She would have to be," she noted. "Now, tell me what happened. The report that came told only of your injuries. I'm curious to hear what had happened.

"There isn't much to tell," he said. "She got the drop on me and shot faster than I could blink, and when I couldn't blink, she didn't miss."

"So what, she just completely beat you?"

"No," Talon replied. "By the end, I nearly killed her and her damn bird. If you can get away from the eagle and close to her, she's as good as dead."

A look of relief came over Katarina. "Well at least you put up a fight. Do you know when you'll be back in the field again?"

Talon shrugged. "Even with the healing treatments, I probably won't be able fight at full capacity for another month or so; I can barely walk as it is."

"So what are you going to do?" Katarina asked, "Just waste away here?"

He shook his head. "I think I'm going to take that mission we talked about a while ago."

"You're going to Demacia?"

"I am. Believe it or not, I had a lot of fun with her. I need to figure out how she ticks; it wouldn't be satisfying to just killer without knowing who she is."

Katarina rose from the bed and made her way for the door. "Do what you want, just don't come back with any of her kids," she remarked with a teasing smirk. "House Du Couteau doesn't need any Demacians bearing its heraldry."

"I could tell you the same. Katarina Crownguard doesn't really have the same ring to it."

"Shut up, sewer rat." She opened the door and stopped in her tracks. "Oh, you're both here. You didn't have to wait outside; you should have just said something and I would have let you in."

"Sorry, I didn't know. You were always closer to him; I assumed you would appreciate some time alone." Talon recognized that voice anywhere: Cassiopeia.

"Don't be ridiculous. He's our brother, not my wife. Go on in." With that, Katarina departed, disappearing from view the moment she turned the corner. Two other women quickly filled the void. The first was Cassiopeia, youngest child of the Du Couteau family and their political face when Marcus was away. She had always distanced herself from Talon, remaining little more than a stranger for the years he spent in Marcus's service. Following close behind her was Riven, whose visible worry was already a welcome foil to the cold air looming around Cassiopeia.

"Ugh, look at you," Cassiopeia said, her brown hair swinging gently behind her back as she looked over his figure. "This is quite unbecoming, even for you."

"Is that all you came to say, Sister?"

Cassiopeia glared at the assassin, clearly struggling to hold back a deluge of insults and generally unpleasant words. "I'm glad you're okay," she eventually muttered, "the last thing we need is for one of our finest blades to die to some Demacian filth; you would be missed." Allowing no time for a reaction, the Du Couteau hurried out of the door, the tail of her dress flowing like water behind her. If there was one thing about Cassiopeia that impressed Talon, it was that even in a fluster, her everything she did was smooth and elegant. When she walked, she appeared to be gliding, and this was no exception. She was no fighter, but her movements were just as measured as her father's in their own way.

"Do you have any friends that aren't girls?" Riven asked as she watched Cassiopeia leave.

"I don't _have_ friends." he replied. "Cass and Kat are family."

"Don't say that," Riven said. "I know we haven't known each other too long, but I consider you a friend."

Talon scoffed at the white-haired woman beside him. "You would be the first I haven't killed."

"Yeah, yeah… I get it, you kill people. We all have." Riven paused for a moment before speaking again, pulling up a chair from a nearby desk. "So how are you?" she asked.

"I'll be fine. The arrow that hit my stomach didn't penetrate far enough to hit anything important, but my leg is a different story. If I refrain from excessive activity, I should be able to get back to fighting in about a month."

"So what's she like? She must be pretty good to leave you looking like this."

"She's an excellent marksman and scout in her own right, but what makes her a real threat is her synergy with that bird she has. The two of them together are incredibly dangerous. If you ever have to fight her, I'd advise you to kill the bird as quickly as possible."

"That's all?" Riven asked. "No _'I'll wring that filthy Demacian's neck for what she did to me'_ or _'I'm going to destroy everything she holds dear right before her eyes'_?"

"What kind of maniac do you think I am?" Talon asked.

"Really? Weren't you droning on about how you've killed all of your friends just a second ago? You're so inconsistent."

"That was different."

Riven rolled her eyes. "Sure it was." Talon nearly crumbled under her curious gaze. Talon had seen that look before on both of his sisters. An entire conversation had just played out in her head. Now, because of something he said in that imaginary conversation, she was upset, though if past experience told him anything, she wasn't going to tell him why. Such was the ever-dangerous game of unintended implications. "Tell me Talon, do you think you're a bad person?"

"What?"

"Do you think you're a bad person?" she repeated. "Do you ever feel like the world would be better off without you? Like you don't deserve to be happy because of who you are?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Just answer it," Riven insisted.

Talon's head sank further into his pillow as he considered the question. He had thought about it before, but had always dismissed it as irrelevant. It wasn't his job to give himself moral boundaries or think twice about his jobs. He was a tool, and tools didn't doubt themselves. Still, something about seeing Riven stand her ground like that made his open to reconsidering. She was cute when she was persistent. If she wasn't so naïve he might just be interested. Did he consider himself a bad person? He certainly wasn't fighting out of any sense of justice. He wasn't changing the world for the better; He was living the only way he knew how. At the same time, he wasn't acting to make the world worse. He wasn't trying to destroy anyone's life or well-being. As he found was usual in matters involving war, the question could hardly be answered with a simple 'yes' or 'no'.

"It would be easier to ask if Marcus is a good or bad man. In the end, I am an instrument of his will. But since I can see that you won't be satisfied with that answer, I suppose I am neither. A sword is neither good nor bad, the man that wields it is."

"Am I not looking at a man?" Riven asked. "Did you not fight and kill to maintain your independence? That doesn't sound like a mindless weapon to me." She was even more frustrated now than she was before.

Talon sighed. "What do you want from me, woman? I have nothing left to say on the matter. I am not a good man, nor am I a bad one. That's all there is to it."

"I see a man with the potential for greatness walking through his life with no volition. Or at least, I know that's what I saw before."

"What do you mean?" Talon asked.

"I heard a bit of what you said to Katarina," Riven explained. "And now that I'm looking at you, I can see it too: this is the first time in ages you've felt a reason to be swinging that ridiculous blade of yours. This Quinn woman has reignited your sense of purpose and your love for combat. The struggle between life and death is what shaped you as a person, and she's helped you reconnect with that feeling."

Talon was quite entertained by Riven's affinity for sophistry. Perhaps it was unavoidable that she would become so fluent in sentimental nonsense being the poster child of the Noxian ideal. She was probably spoon-fed such talk in the army, and had it validated in her eyes with her promotion. As much as he had initially dismissed her meaning, he had to admit she had one thing right. His fight with Quinn reminded him of why he devoted his life to the blade.

"Do you have a point?" he asked.

"My point is you have a problem. If you don't feel that same vigor in your service to Noxus and your house, you're wasting your effort. If your entire life up to this point has consisted of you devoting your energy to things you can't even look back on and be proud of, something needs to change. As your friend, I can't allow you to keep going like this. Before I met you, I envisioned Talon as a great assassin that devoted himself to perfecting his art for the sake of himself and his lord. While that's not exactly inaccurate, you lack something that even the lowest soldier in the army has: purpose. If you can find purpose, a real purpose that makes you wake up every day feeling the way your fight with Quinn did, I guarantee you'll soar to heights you never thought possible."

"You're speaking nonsense," Talon retorted. "My cause is the will of Lord Du Couteau. I do not need propaganda fueled dogma drilled into my head to be effective."

"Are you sure, Talon?" Riven asked. "Look at General Du Couteau. He fights because he has daughters to protect, a house to honor, and a beloved nation to keep strong. All of those things, all of that affection fuels his strength and drives him forward. Every swing of his blade echoes those sentiments. Now look at Katarina. She too fights for her house and country, but she also has a legacy to uphold. Every time she picks up her swords, she aims to be closer to surpassing her father by the time she puts them back down. Now look at you. When you were a child, you fought for nothing other than to survive, and later, you fought for the sake of your own pride. Then you met the General and were bested, and you came to respect him the same way a fly respects a spider. You pick up your blade and you coat it in blood because you were told to. Imagine how much more you could achieve if your blade held the similar feelings as your contemporaries. Conviction is by no means a replacement for skill, but it is an invaluable strength that you seem to be without."

Talon didn't respond. He didn't know how to respond to such a straightforward scolding from someone he viewed as his subordinate.

Riven sighed as she realized what she had just said. "Look, I know I might have come off as confrontational, and I'm sorry. It's just that… I look up to you, and when I saw you with this passion in your eyes and realized you had been without for what I could only assume was your whole time in service to General Du Couteau, it hurt. We're comrades, and we're supposed to help each other. So that's what this was: me trying to help you. I'm not an assassin, and I can't teach you anything the way you taught me, but I can still help you out with the more abstract stuff like this."

"No, I understand," Talon reassured. That wasn't entirely true, but he knew that she meant well. He agreed with many of her points. Conviction was indeed a powerful ally; he had seen many a man fight well beyond their limits because of it. He also believed that the absence of the vigor Quinn had given him was a problem that he should seek a solution for. There was no doubt he could push himself even further if he had that much energy behind him every day. What he did not understand was the idea that his devotion to General Du Couteau was somehow inadequate. Where he was from, strength dictated everything. Every aspect of life, from whether or not you would eat that day to whether or not you would see tomorrow, was determined by one's strength, and as a result, Talon had a great respect for it. Riven had never truly experienced that, so he could only assume she couldn't truly understand the nature of his loyalty to the General. "You're right. I should try to maintain this level of enthusiasm in all of my work. It can only help."

"I'm glad you get it," Riven said. "The last thing I needed was to accidentally distance us from each other because of my clumsy wording." Talon acknowledged her comment with a grunt and closed his eyes. Riven couldn't tell if he wanted her to leave, so she stayed under the assumption that he would have told her so if he did. Once again, silence fell over the room. "You know, you sometimes hear about warriors that fight fierce battles against each other falling in love…" Riven trailed off, giving Talon more than a clear interpretation of her implication. She trusted the break in conversation was long enough for this mood transition to work smoothly.

"Not entirely untrue," Talon said with a sly smile. "I've seen it happen myself."

"Really?" Riven asked, her curiosity peaked. "Do tell."

"She's family and her love would cause quite a scandal if revealed. I won't say more," Talon explained. He knew he would be endangering both his life and Riven's if he filled her in on Katarina's secret.

"That's certainly unexpected, but it's not what I why I brought this up."

"You're talking about Quinn."

"Yes. What was she like? Was she beautiful? Did your heart skip a beat when you saw her?" Riven asked in a gradually ascending tone. Riven considered herself a generally agreeable and friendly person, and she took great pride in that. However, something about Talon's stern demeanor and disinterested attitude made her want to see him crack. Some unknown beast within her was awoken by his presence, and it longed to see him flustered. Perhaps Katarina shared her sentiment.

All two women in Talon's life had an incredible propensity to mock him about his love life, so brushing off Riven's teasing was second nature to him. "I only saw her clearly for a few seconds; I can't really say I had the time to judge her looks."

"That's fine. Just tell me what you do remember. I want to know what to look out for." A blatant lie, but it kept Talon talking.

"She was rather rugged looking for a woman, though a good forest deployment could do that to anyone. She had dark and messy hair; I couldn't see it too well to be honest. Her eyes are what I remember the most. When you see them fixed on you with that predatory sense of determination you would expect from someone like her… even I felt like her prey for a moment."

"I didn't think you were into that kind of thing," Riven teased. "What color were they?"

"Amber, I guess. She looked tired, almost like she hadn't slept and was forcing herself to be conscious for that fight. Maybe that's just her look, though. I can't say for sure. She'd probably look really nice if she cleaned up and slept for a few weeks; but out in the field, she could be confused for a man at first glance, especially with such a strong chin."

"Huh, it sounds like she looks a lot like you," Riven observed.

Talon looked around the room and eventually located a hand mirror that was resting on the side table next to his bed. He held it above his face and examined his features, eager to verify their supposed resemblance for himself. "Maybe we do look alike…"

"Yes, well, I'm sure you've noticed by now, but you look terrible," Riven said, rising from her chair and scouring her surroundings.

"What are you doing?"

"With all that hair, you have to have a hairbrush, right?" Riven asked. "Ah! Here it is."

"It's fine. Put that down," Talon insisted.

"Absolutely not," Riven replied. "If we don't get those knots out now, they'll only get worse. Knowing you, you'd probably just let it become matted at that point. Come on and sit up; if you aren't going to do it, I will."

The assassin sat up with a reluctant groan, careful not to agitate his injuries. "Be quick about it."

Riven quickly occupied the space behind him and began going to work. Talon closed his eyes and fought through Riven's forceful brush strokes. As forceful and mildly annoying as she was at times, it was nice to have someone who went out of their way to interact with him. If he really was going to be going to be heading to Demacia pretending to be a different person, he should spend some time with his real friends while he had the time. He couldn't believe himself. Just a couple months earlier and he would have laughed at the notion. He had changed; Riven was changing him, but he honestly didn't mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey guys, long time no see. I honestly didn't expect this chapter to take so long, but my work ethic is admittedly pretty bad and I ended up scrapping everything I had for it twice, and in addition to doubling down on research into the lore, I ended up waaay behind schedule. Even so, as much as that delayed this one, I'm glad for it. Because of the extra time and backtracking, I've gotten a much better sense of where I want to take this story and this chapter is much better as a result. Writing this chapter has gotten me really excited for the rest of the story, and as a result, I'll be trying my best to get chapters out to you guys sooner. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

There were a number of things Talon was not a fan of in the world. Mages, for one, always managed to get on his nerves. Whether it was due to his own inability to control magic as freely as they did, or the arrogance that came with having vast amounts of power at one's beck and call, something about them rubbed him the wrong way. Another thing that tended to get on his nerves was senseless optimism. The world as he knew it was a cruel and unforgiving place that didn't care about you at all; and there was always someone bigger than you ready to step on you to get a leg up for themselves. In a place like that, optimism seemed wildly out of place. It was almost always unwarranted, and when it did make its way into people's hearts, it seemed more like a weakness than anything else. To Talon, optimism was just denial, a childish refusal to see things how they truly were: indifferent and unfair. The third and final thing that Talon couldn't stand was naiveté. It was irresponsible and utterly foolish to waste opportunities to learn. Knowledge is the greatest weapon one could have, and as such, everyone should strive to know as much as they could. That was the least you could do to keep your head above the water's surface. So how was it that he managed to get stuck with someone that was the sheer embodiment of all three of those things?

Talon looked over his shoulder and leered at the woman behind him. Brown hair, tan skin, she was a typical Shuriman nomad. But of course, she was a mage, so it was to be expected that high command send him all the way to Mount Targon to escort her back to Noxus the second he could walk. They had been on the road for days, passing from noxtoraa to noxtoraa, and yet the dignitaries accompanying her still hadn't run out of rosy bullshit to feed the poor girl about how well she would be treated in Noxus. To make matters even more irksome, he had to watch her eat it all up. Perhaps Shuriman nomads weren't exceptionally well versed in the ways of diplomatic sophistry, but this was unbearable. He almost felt sorry for the girl. She was following them expecting a new life free from the chains that her uncontrolled powers had on her, but in reality, she would be trading her proverbial set for real ones. She would be bound to some lord or general and forced to become their instrument. She would learn, but she would have to act against her will. If this woman's spirit was as free as it seemed, Noxus would be hell for her.

The girl's eyes met his, and he turned away having realized his gaze had lingered too long.

"Hey, you," she called, her voice cutting off the ramblings of the two dignitaries that accompanied them.

"Milady," one of the dignitaries said, "it may not be wise to seek conversation with our escort; it is likely you will not find him very agreeable."

"That's nonsense," the woman answered. "No one willing to spend days on end guarding a complete stranger can be all bad." She returned her attention to the hooded assassin in front of her. "Hey, I know you hear me. I never got your name."

"It's Talon."

"Talon huh? Not your real name I take it."

"I don't have a real name," he replied.

"Well I just wanted to say thanks for this. I really appreciate it." A short grunt was all that came as a reply. "You know I'm not really comfortable not knowing the only person in our group with a weapon. Do you mind if we talk a little?"

He really didn't want to talk to her, but at the same time, it would probably beat listening to her being lied to for the remainder of their trip back to Noxus. "If you insist."

The young woman broke her leisurely stride and jogged a short ways, stopping and matching pace once she had reached Talon's side. "So what do you do Mr. Talon?" she asked. "I doubt they would send just anyone to escort a mage."

"I'm an assassin that works under one of Noxus's highest ranking military officials."

"An assassin? Why would they send an assassin as an escort? Why not some kind of warrior?"

"Everyone else is busy. Don't worry, though. You'll be safe with me." He had a similar question when he first received the assignment, and he had received a similar answer. Noxus was preparing for war. Nearly every aspect of Noxian society was at work as part of the war effort. Blacksmiths and other craftsmen had been commissioned to mass-produce new arms and armor, farmers were giving a portion of their crops' yields to the military, the list went on and on. He imagined he too would have been employed in some way were it not for his injury, and now that he was healed, he was the only respectable name in Noxus that was available for this assignment. This mission in addition to the already confirmed undercover mission into Demacia would mean he would miss the opening months of the invasion; and he was glad for it. Ionia was the last place he wanted to see burn at the hands of Noxus.

"Lady Taliyah, rest assured," a dignitary said. "We would not have begun our journey back if we did not have utmost faith in Lord Talon's abilities. In fact, I daresay we are lucky to have him."

"That certainly is reassuring," Taliyah said. "So if you're an assassin, then you must travel a lot, right?"

"I do."

"Have you ever been to Shurima?" Taliyah asked.

"I have not. Our nations have very few official dealings with each other, aside from the occasional stray noble, so I have never had cause to kill anyone there."

"…Oh. Well Noxus is as nice of a place as it sounds, you probably wouldn't like it there anyway. It's mostly just sand and blistering heat with the occasional village in the middle of nowhere."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you come to miss it," Talon said. "Noxus is a very busy and dense place; it might be suffocating for someone used to wide-open deserts."

"Well I hope you're wrong. I've come too far to be disappointed now."

* * *

Talon slowed his pace as he reached the main gates of Noxus Prime. Once he stepped through those gates, he was to prepare to leave for Demacia, and young Taliyah's life would change forever. He wasn't much for sympathy, but he was even less fond of Noxian aristocrats taking other humans as their pets. She was far more powerful than any of the dogs she would be working under, and on top of that, she was kind enough to keep him company during the trip back. Not many people were on Talon's good side, but Taliyah had definitely taken the first steps. He pulled the young woman aside for one last time.

"Listen to me, Taliyah. Never forget what you are worth. In Noxus, if you want something, you take it, and if you don't like something, you change it. Everything that happens from here on out comes down to your own decisions. Understand?"

"I-I think so," she replied.

He had done what he could. It was up to her to steer her life now. The sound of the gates opening drew his attention away from the Shuriman. A girl with white hair and a comically oversized sword strapped to her back was approaching him.

"Talon, you're back!" she called. Riven quickly turned to Taliyah. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take Talon with me, now; he's been ordered back to the Du Couteau mansion as soon as he arrives. The dignitaries will take you to your temporary residence and inform you of your schedule. Good luck, and welcome to Noxus.

"Thank you." Without so much as a warning, the dignitaries began directing her into the city, leaving Talon and Riven alone.

"Why are you here?" Talon asked. "I would have gone to the Du Couteau manor on my own."

"I know, but I'm under orders," Riven explained.

"Whose orders?"

"General Du Couteau's."

"What? He's back already?" Talon asked. "He's early. Cassiopeia's expedition doesn't leave until next week."

"Yes, well, a lot's going on right now, and I need to take you back."

"Right."

The pair walked the streets of Noxus Prime in uncharacteristic silence. Of course, Talon never talked very much, but when Riven was with him, their conversations never ended. Something was wrong with her.

"Riven, are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine, just anxious is all."

"About the war? Do you know how much fighting you'll be seeing?"

"All of it," she replied. "I'm going to be on the front lines for all of our opening offensives."

"Don't worry; you're stronger than you know. With the way things are looking, you'll just fight a few battles and the war will be over before you know it."

"I'm not worried," Riven replied. "It's an honor to represent Noxus in battle. I'm just eager to see Ionia's heroes in action. I've heard countless stories of the fighting techniques they've developed in Ionia. Wuju, Hiten, any number of transcendent magic techniques, Ionia is home to all of them. Even with our numbers, I wonder if we can truly defeat them.

"I just hope it ends quickly," Talon said. "I want some semblance of the nation that once stood to exist when I retire there."

"That's right; you said you wanted to live there. Is that why you're leaving? So you don't have to watch it fall?"

Talon shook his head. "It is a mere coincidence. Since I am technically not a servant of High Command, I am rarely informed on political matters such as this. I just go where the general says to go and kill who he says to kill. Actually, that has me wondering. What role is Katarina to play in all this?"

"I don't know; the general didn't tell me. I did hear from Cassiopeia that she's headed to Bilgewater, but I can't imagine why."

"Huh. Believe it or not, Katarina sometimes hires a crew from Bilgewater to perform naval operations when we can't have trails leading back to Noxus. She might be trying to use whatever influence she has there to help the war effort."

"What are you saying?" Riven asked. "You mean to say we're trying to get Bilgewater on our side?"

"No one ever has all of Bilgewater on their side, especially Noxus. At most, I would guess she's letting rumors slip that Ionia will be an easy target for raids and plundering in the near future. With luck, they'll show up to put a dent in the Ionian navy all on their own. Then again, I can only guess. I only know as much as you do."

Riven sighed. "If it's true, it would be a clever trick. I guess I should expect at least that much out of house Du Couteau. Still I can't help but think of it as dishonorable."

"How do you mean?"

"Strength, even our enemies strength, should be respected; that is the Noxian way," Riven said. "Our wars should be our own, and if the Ionians are truly stronger than us, we should respect that fact and admit defeat, not resort to underhanded tricks like that."

"You mean strategy," Talon corrected.

"There is a line between the two, Talon. It may not matter to you in your profession, but for true Noxian soldiers like me, crossing it is the ultimate hypocrisy."

As much as he disagreed, Talon had known Riven long enough to know not to press the issue further. She had her ways and he had his, as friends, all they could do was respect that fact and move on. "I suppose you're right," Talon conceded, "I'd rather not see them attacked by Bilgewater either. There is no respect in that place. I can only imagine the desecration that would take place if those wharf rats set foot on Ionian soil."

"Ha! For once you and I agree on something."

With a few more steps, the pair found themselves at Du Couteau mansion. Talon took a deep breath. It had been a while since he had seen Marcus, and as much as he hated to admit it, he missed him. There likely wouldn't be any time for casual conversation with how busy the General must be, but he was eager to see him nonetheless.

"I'll be leaving you here," Riven said.

"Are you sure?" Talon asked. "I thought you said you wanted to meet him."

"I already did, sort of. Plus, I'm Crimson Elite. I'll be taking all of my orders directly from him once we land in Ionia."

Talon was willing to admit that made sense, but he still wasn't happy with letting this be the last time they would see each other for another month or two. She was his only friend, and he damn well wouldn't be leaving her to fight her first all-out war without a proper goodbye and a few drinks. "Will you be free anytime before I leave tomorrow?" he asked. "I want to spend at least a little time with you before I go."

Riven smiled at the proposition. "I can't be sure, but I'll find a way. Be ready for me at a moment's notice, okay?"

"I'll be here," Talon assured. With a wave and a goodbye, Talon parted ways with Riven and entered the mansion.

He was immediately met with the sight of at least half of the mansion's service staff hustling about the building, likely trying to accommodate last minute changes to Cassiopeia's expedition. Cassiopeia herself was in the entrance hall, conversing with one of her lead organizers.

"Cass-"

"Don't interrupt," she chided. Her conversation continued for a few more seconds before she waved her company away and turned to Talon. "Father is in his study. I'm sure you're aware, but he is expecting you."

"I'll meet him right away. Are your preparations coming along?" he asked. By now, he knew better than to try to act familiar with Cassiopeia, but given the circumstances, he figured he might as well. It was a kind gesture if nothing else.

"That's none of your concern," she answered. Just as expected.

"Yes well, try to have _some_ fun. That beauty and charm you pride yourself on will be a lot less valuable if you come home looking ten years older."

Cassiopeia shot him a glare but eventually relented upon realizing his intentions. She let out a small sigh and began making her way toward another wing of the mansion. "I'll try my best."

Marcus Du Couteau's study was a small wonder in and of itself. Taking up a fair portion of the mansion's third level, the dimly lit room was lined with bookshelves that held more books than one could possibly manage to read in a lifetime. Marcus's desk sat before the room's far wall, facing the only entrance to the room. The wall behind the desk was host to a massive map of Valoran that covered the whole of its face. Various pins and markings marred its surface, and almost all of them had likely played some role in the planning of someone's death. Marcus himself was absorbed in writing of some kind, his quill gliding across his parchment with the same elegance as his blade. Perhaps such writing was what proper schooling afforded someone. It took Talon a while to learn how to write, and even now, his script was just barely legible.

"Sir, you summoned me?" Talon called.

"I did," Marcus acknowledged, his attention still fully invested in the paper before him. "I hear you're planning on going to Demacia."

"Yes, sir. I wish to investigate an asset of theirs that has recently risen to prominence with multiple instances of distinguished service."

"Quinn."

"Yes, sir."

Marcus lifted his head for the first time since Talon had arrived, a knowing smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "I heard she kicked your ass." If there was ever a question of where Katarina got her attitude from, it was just answered. Marcus's emerald eyes mocked him in just the same way hers did. Everything from their hair to their odd affinity for black clothing was exactly the same.

"It was a draw at best, sir," Talon replied. "I trust I wouldn't have been summoned officially if there wasn't some kind of conflict with your desires. Do you need me somewhere else?"

"I do have a new mission for you, but you are still to be bound for Demacia," Marcus explained. "With luck and a bit of good planning, you should be able to handle your personal vendetta in your spare time. But before I go into that, I need to give you your briefing. You are aware of the impending invasion of Ionia, yes?"

"I am, sir."

"Are you familiar with the name Master Lito?"

"The Hiten master, if memory serves."

"Correct. Going into this war, I was tasked with the identification and elimination of potential enemy threats. There were none greater than Master Lito."

"Is he really that powerful?" Talon asked.

"Should we have met in fair combat, I would not have won," Marcus said.

The thought of a fighter more skilled than Marcus Du Couteau did not sit well with Talon. Ionia's devotion to peace and self-improvement hadn't been a waste after all.

"However," Marcus continued, "fighting him was not my job; killing him was. After the administration of various different poisons, Master Lito passed away."

"So where do I come in?" Talon asked.

"Lito had two children, Irelia and Zelos. Neither of them rivals their father's prowess quite yet, but Zelos is determined to make himself a nuisance in a different way. Somehow, Ionia has become aware of our intention to invade and is already making preparations to defend itself. Zelos has taken it upon himself to travel to Demacia and request military aid. You are to kill him before that happens. He had not yet left Ionia when I received this information, so if you leave tomorrow you should beat him to Demacia by a comfortable margin." Marcus took the parchment he was writing on and placed it on a stack of paper that was sitting on his desk. "Here is everything you need to know about him: sketches, habits, all of it."

Talon picked up the stack of paper and began going over it. "How did the invasion plans leak?" he asked. "I thought this was just between the top of the top."

"My guess is someone sold us out to Bilgewater, and they in turn to Ionia. Information is as valuable as gold in situations like this, and somebody just got rich. You don't need to worry about that, though; I have other assets looking into it. Whoever is responsible is not long for this world. Now, is there anything else?"

"Nothing important. Do you have time to talk?"

"I have a moment. What's on your mind?"

"It's about our newest member, Riven. Did you have a chance to meet her?" Talon asked.

"I did, briefly. Truth be told, I've had my eye on her for a while. Still, she must have come a long way since her army days for Katarina to praise her the way she did. I look forward to seeing her on the field."

"I was just checking. She's something of a fan of yours."

Marcus shot Talon a curious look. "This is rather unlike you, Talon," he observed. "Since when have you cared about such things? Don't tell me you've developed feelings for the girl." It was clear that the general's question was born from a need to make Talon uncomfortable rather than a genuine sense of curiosity. Talon would not tolerate being teased by a grown man.

"We're good friends; that's all." Talon nearly crumbled under Marcus's incredulous stare. "I have work to do," Talon said.

"Talon," Marcus began, "I'll keep her safe. You may serve this house as a weapon, but you are still a man and my son; you need something to keep you grounded. Up until now I had half a mind to arrange a marriage behind your back. No man should die without knowing the warmth of a woman's love."

Without wasting a moment, Talon departed the study and returned to his room; he had a date to prepare for.

* * *

Laughter filled the entrance hall of Du Couteau mansion as Riven and Talon drunkenly stumbled inside. The last tavern in Noxus Prime had closed, and dawn was likely not far off. Still, Riven was not content to end her night there, and Talon was not content to let her. Seeing no other option, the jubilant and thoroughly inebriated duo returned to the mansion to continue their festivities. After quietly making their way to Talon's bedroom so as not to disturb Cassiopeia or her staff so soon before their expedition; Riven and Talon immediately took seats, Talon on his bed, and Riven at Talon's desk.

"Are you sure you're okay with spending the night here?" Talon asked. "I can't promise I can wake you up in time to get you to the barracks."

"I'm Crimson Elite, Talon," Riven replied. "I can show up whenever the hell I want. Besides, imagine how bad it would make me look if I stumbled back to my quarters at his hour of the night. This is my only choice." Riven watched as Talon removed his cloak and tossed it onto the floor. His muscular figure was clearly visible through his undershirt. It occurred to Riven that she had never really acknowledged how well built he was. She supposed he would have to be, given his profession. She had seen the way he could vault and climb over obstacles when he really needed to be somewhere, and she knew that required a level of fitness well beyond the average soldier. Even so, she never expected _this_. Every part of his body was deceptively well-toned. What he didn't have in ostensible volume, he had in definition. She couldn't even guess how hard he had to work to maintain that balance; it was the perfect build for someone that needed to be as fast as he was. Riven quickly shook herself out of her self-induced trance; the last thing she wanted right now was to be caught staring.

"You can have the bed," Talon offered, preparing to sleep on the floor.

Riven scoffed at the offer as she got up and made her way over to it. "Don't be ridiculous. Your bed is clearly big enough for both of us." There was no way she would be cheated out of sharing a bed with Talon tonight. She had been taken with him from day one, and had done everything in her power to close the distance he instinctively put between them every time she had the chance. Looking back, it was an absurd amount of work just to get him to consider her a friend. Sure, she could have lured him into her bed and taken him within the first week of their meeting, but that wasn't what she wanted. That path would close off any chance of something meaningful between them, and so she took the long road. She put herself at his side whenever she saw him, and charged headfirst through the walls that had stood around his heart since his childhood. She was closer to him than anyone had ever been, and she fell deeper in love with him every step of the way. Tonight was the perfect opportunity to finally get her man.

"I know, I just figured…"

"Please, we're both adults here, aren't we?" Riven asked. "Surely two friends can share a bed without soiling themselves like some backed-up teenagers."

"My offer stands should you change your mind," Talon said as he lie down.

Riven sat down on the opposite end of the bed and began to take off her blouse before stopping and looking at Talon.

"Are you seriously going to watch me undress right after you offered me the bed to myself? How inconsistent can you be?"

Talon chuckled to himself and averted his gaze. "Can you really blame me?" he asked.

"Yes, I can, you creep. Now close your eyes until I say you can open them. I swear if I catch you looking, you're going out the window." She probably couldn't if he really put up a fight, but she had to keep up appearances for the sake of her own dignity. If things did get that far and he did end up overpowering her, well… that wouldn't necessarily be the worst thing in the world.

"You don't give yourself enough credit," Talon said as he complied with her demand. He normally wasn't this forward with women on the rare occasion that he find one to his liking, but this was a special occasion. Riven was beautiful and he was utterly smitten with her, a fact that he had accepted the day she visited him after his fight with Quinn. In this moment, the perfect storm was brewing. Both were a little more drunk than they should be, they were sleeping in the same bed, and they both wanted this last night together to be as memorable as possible. Even if it ended up being a mistake, by the next time they saw each other, this would be so far behind them that they could address it clearly and move on without a problem. Of course, she may very well not want to go in that direction at all, and he didn't want to risk compromising her comfort if that was the case. He would flirt a little bit more to make it clear to her that he was open to the idea, and leave the rest to her.

"You can open your eyes now," she said as she moved under the covers and settled into a comfortable position.

"How much did you take off?" he asked.

"Enough," she replied. If he really wanted to know, he would have to touch her and find out.

Talon rolled onto his side to face his companion, only to find her looking straight back at him. They stayed like that for a time, simply staring at each other in silence. It was surprisingly satisfying on its own, but they would go no further if it didn't break.

"Talon," Riven said.

"Yes?"

"You asked me earlier if I was worried about the war. I lied. I am scared, Talon. The Ionians have been pushing the boundaries of human capability for centuries; despite whatever everyone says, this war is not going to be an easy one. Even if I survive against the people that have bred the legends you hear about Ionia, I'm going to watch friends and foes alike die in droves. I'm proud to be one of the first Noxian soldiers the Ionians see, but no amount of pride or honor can wash away memories like that."

Talon placed his arm on her shoulder. "No matter what happens, I'll be there for you," Talon said. "The moment I land in Ionia I'm hunting you down so you can let it all out."

"Good, because I'm going to need you," she said. Something in his cool amber eyes convinced her of every word. He would be there for her, and once he was by her side, they would be unstoppable. "You know, there's actually something you could do to help me now."

Riven took the hand that rested on her shoulder and guided it gently down to her hips, watching him intently to catch the look on his face when he realized she was wearing nothing but her undergarments. To her surprise, it was she that had the bigger reaction to his touch, flinching as his fingers lit her body on fire; Talon was simply smirking. She hated him so much. It wasn't fair that she could be this aggressive and still be the one at his mercy. Talon's hand moved to the small of her back and pulled her body toward him. They stayed like that for a second, face to face and breathing the same air, but passion soon overtook them.

 _And so the night went on…_

Talon awoke to an unfamiliar weight on the side of his body, and upon seeing Riven's snow-white hair resting on his shoulder, immediately remembered what had transpired last night. No regret plagued his heart, and the feeling of holding the woman he now knew he loved as she slept was rapturous. Unfortunately, he didn't know if she would feel the same, and he couldn't delay her judgment any further; he had to wake her up so she could return to the barracks. Talon waited for the feeling to return to the hand that wrapped around his partner and gently shook her, hoping it would be enough to wake her from her alcohol-induced sleep. Luckily war bred light sleepers, and Riven soon stirred from her sleep.

Talon watched her intently, taking in every expression she made and every breath she took to give him a hint about how she felt. The first thing she saw was Talon's bare chest, which held her gaze longer than he expected. It was clear that everything coming back to her in those moments, and if not, realizations were falling on her with the force of a waterfall. Whichever it was, it didn't seem to affect her very much. Her face remained unchanging and she turned to look at Talon. She smiled solemnly and planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

"I have to go," she explained, slowly removing herself from his bed and tracking down stray articles of clothing.

Talon remained silent and simply watched her move about the room, doing his best to take in the last look of her he may ever get. "Riven," he began, "I love you."

Riven stopped in her tracks as she heard those words, a single tear streaming down her face. That was all she wanted to hear. She looked on as Talon rose from his bed and walked over to her, awaiting her response. "I love you too, Talon."

Instantly, Talon pulled her into a tight embrace, desperate to keep her with him as long as he could. Eventually though, she gently pushed away and made her way to the door, stopping once again at the sound of Talon's voice.

"When I find you, can we continue this?" he asked.

A rather dull question, but Riven knew that was the most sentimentality she could get from Talon, and it meant the world to her. "Of course," she answered, "should we meet again."

* * *

 **A/N: And thus we have the conclusion of the first arc. It would be a huge help to hear some feedback from you guys so I know what I need to work on going forward, so if you have some thoughts about the story or just a general comment, feel free to drop a review or pm. Thanks again for reading, and I hope to see you soon!**


	6. Chapter 6

The vast borderlands between Noxus and Demacia were proving to be a most ironic place nowadays. Countless soldiers had died bloody deaths and had their bodies claimed by its soil, but none of it had any meaning. Aside from Kalamanda, these lands hadn't seen any true warfare since the days of Sion the Kingslayer. Now, these very borderlands would see history altered upon its face; but there would be no war, no glorious battle in which heroes sung through the ages would be born. No, on this day, history would be written in the blood of only a single man, and Talon would be its author.

The man called Zelos was rushing to Demacia to try and convince the nation to intervene in Noxus's invasion. Naturally, invasions cause a bit of a stir, and Demacia would find out eventually. However, the time at which they become aware of the invasion would be critical. If Talon could buy Noxus the extra week or so Zelos's death would provide, Demacia's aid would come far too late. If they chose to intervene, they would not face a Noxian force divided between them and Ionia; they would face the full strength of Noxus's army. The only situation in which Ionia could survive this war (save for some unforeseen miracle) would be for Demacia to be involved from day one. Talon would not allow that to happen.

Talon took some time to admire the mountain range before him. Stone towers stretched on past the horizon, snow covered peaks reaching to pierce the sky itself. He had been waiting in this pass for two days. Any person trying to get to Demacia from Ionia while simultaneous avoiding getting killed by Noxians would have to go through Piltover, through the Ironspike Mountains, and into the part of the frontier lands known as the Howling Marsh; it was the only viable route unless one wanted to suffer the biting cold of the Freljord. Lucky for Talon, there was only one traversable pass that could be used to do so, and it was right next to Noxus. Zelos would come through any day now; all Talon had to do was continue to wait.

Stricken by yet another wave of boredom, the assassin pulled out the only page of Marcus's briefing package he hadn't burned upon memorization and read it over once more.

 _Keep it clean and you'll have earned a favor from our friends. Use it to get to your ranger. She'll be waiting for you, Special Ambassador Bertrand._ _– Marcus_

The general's signature was accompanied by what Talon could only assume was his attempt at drawing a flower, which could only mean one thing: the Black Rose. Talon had been lucky enough to avoid becoming involved with their organization over the course of his life, and he was extremely grateful for it. There were, however, times when they actively sought his services. He would normally refuse, but ever since the death of the previous Grand General, Boram Darkwill, he knew House Du Couteau needed to fight tooth and claw to stay in High Command's favor. No one as smart as Jericho Swain would be comfortable with keeping one of the highest ranking members of a regime he personally destroyed in power. If it was anyone other than the house of Noxus's greatest assassins and diplomats, Talon was sure they would have been done away with already. He didn't expect this to be a Black Rose job at first, but now he was surprised he didn't realize it sooner. There was no way Marcus could have been aware of Zelos's departure if he was already halfway back to Noxus when the boy decided to leave. With the Black Rose constantly being up Marcus's ass and tracing his footsteps, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise they would come across Lito's temple when Zelos was preparing to leave.

He supposed he should be glad they became aware of such critical information, but the whole situation had implications he didn't like. First and foremost among these implications was the fact that someone in the Black Rose was watching him in this very moment, and likely had been for the past few days. Whether it be through the eyes of some familiar or a spell of farsight, they had to be watching him to know if his assassination attempt would be successful. The second was that he was addressed as 'Special Ambassador Bertrand' in the letter. That was a cover he had been given a few times in the past in order to infiltrate Demacia's higher society. He hadn't been planning on using it to get to Quinn this time, but it appeared the Black Rose had already made the arrangements for his arrival. He hated the feeling of being owned like this. He wouldn't deny that his role was little more than that of a dog in house Du Couteau, but at least he couldn't feel the leash. When one was dealing with the Black Rose, you wouldn't even know you had their collar around your neck until they had you chained and ready to be shocked for disobedience. Deep down, some part of Talon admired the efficiency with which they operated. While the 'cloak' part of "cloak and dagger" was never his expertise, even he could appreciate their effectiveness, especially when he was on the receiving end of it. Now that he thought about it, he should probably just be grateful that he stood to gain anything at all from this interaction.

Images of a young woman from his past bubbled to the surface of his mind. That was right, he might get to see _her_ again. He had nearly forgotten about the sole member of the Black Rose that he was allowed to communicate with: the alluring sorceress called Evaine. She was a sorceress, yes, and a powerful one at that, but Talon had found that unlike most, she was actually quite good for conversation. How long had it been since she last approached him? Her visits to the Du Couteau mansion had been growing scarce in recent months. Her ravishing beauty and sharp wit were a combination he'd prefer not to go long without.

Just as his mind began to sink into fantasy, it was mercilessly ripped back to reality by the sound of approaching footsteps. With a single deep breath, adrenaline coursed through his body and his senses sharpened to the point of a razor's edge. This was the feeling that kept him going. The feeling of his body being pushed to its upper limits by its own chemicals… it was better than any drug; it was euphoria. All that he needed now was the release of plunging his blade into flesh, and the cycle of ecstasy and death would be completed.

Talon set himself into motion, emerging from the crevice in the mountain's base that hid him and moving onto the path to get a look at his target. The oncoming traveler wore a tattered brown cloak that covered his entire body, his face concealed by the shade of the hood that covered his head. It wasn't exceptionally different from Talon's own attire. Even to the well-trained eye, Talon appeared as nothing more than a cloaked traveler. His signature arm blade had been left behind in Noxus to maintain this very façade. He would have to use this cover to approach this hooded traveler and determine his true identity.

"Excuse me, sir!" Talon called out, his voice lacking its usual hostility. The hooded traveler seemed intent to ignore him, and that was something he couldn't allow.

"Sir, a moment of your time, please!" The hooded man continued, his stride as determined as ever. Perhaps if he announced his intentions… Talon reached into his cloak and pulled out a folded map of Valoran, unfolding it as approached.

"Sir, could you please just point to where we are on this map? I'm trying to get to Piltover and I need to make sure I'm still on course."

The traveler stopped, seemingly convinced of Talon's intent. He moved cautiously to Talon's side and looked over the map. In the few seconds it took for the traveler to assess the parchment, Talon's mind raced. His hands were rough and calloused, while indicative of a trained fighter, they could also be the result of a difficult trek; it wasn't enough. The assassin looked to his face, eager to find just the smallest confirmation that it was Zelos.

"I believe we are about here," the traveler said, "between the Ironspike Mountains and the Howling Marsh."

"Thank you sir, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it." Talon folded his map, only to 'accidentally' lose it to the gust of wind that so commonly made its way through the mountain pass.

"Please, I'll get it," the traveler said as he broke into a light jog after the wayward map. In his pursuit, however, his hood fell to reveal a head of uniquely Ionian blue hair.

Talon smiled and sprinted after the man, the sound of his already quiet steps drowned out by the howling winds. He reached Zelos as the Ionian bent over to pick up the map, a dagger making its way cleanly through the base of his skull. One instant he was chasing after a kind stranger's map, the next: nothing. Talon removed his blade from his victim's body as it fell lifelessly to the ground. It was a terrible way to go, in Talon's mind. While he was afforded a painless passing, he was robbed of the chance to make peace with his life, with himself. Though in his case, perhaps it should be considered a boon to never know that your failure had singlehandedly doomed your motherland. Either way, it didn't matter now. He was too dead to care about what tragic realizations he did or did not get to experience in his final moments.

Talon wiped the blood off of his blade using Zelos's travelling cloak and looked around. He assumed the Black Rose was watching, but he still didn't know what to expect. Was he going to receive a message? Was he supposed to hide the body first? Before he could even begin to find the answers to those questions himself, a raven made of stone swooped down from the sky and perched itself on Zelos's corpse. The smoky blue light emanating from its eyes grew brighter, gradually spreading to the body beneath it. It burned wildly for a moment, the cool flames bearing a sort of controlled grace that natural fires could never produce; it was a spectacle in its own right. After a few seconds, the flames dissipated leaving no trace of Zelos's body in their wake. Instead, what lied within the Raven's talons was not a body, but a rolled parchment. The bird's misty eyes locked onto Talon as it emitted an offensive and soul-shaking imitation of a raven's cry. Seeing that its duty was done, the stone bird flew a short distance before being engulfed by the very same flame that had consumed Zelos's body, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

" _Someone_ has a knack for flare…" Talon muttered under his breath. A few short steps saw him to the mysterious note, which he promptly opened. Its contents were brief and concise: a time and place, presumably for a meeting. Luckily, the name of the inn listed in the note was one of the few in the area he was familiar with, which would save him quite a bit of time. Talon readjusted his traveling cloak, casting one final gaze at the spot where Zelos's body has been. The strong winds of the pass soon forced him to turn away, but the sight had made its impact. What would happen if he had been erased like that? Would Noxus feel his loss? Would anyone? Surely house Du Couteau would mourn the loss of a convenient tool, but that was not what he meant. What was he worth to this world as a person? No matter what he considered, his own measure of self-worth exceeded his experiences in the world.

Talon lightly slapped himself and shook such thoughts out of his mind; now was hardly the time to grow discontented with his life, especially after so long. The assassin quickened his pace, eager to get this whole ordeal behind him. Demacia was waiting.

* * *

The wooden stairs of that led to the inn's upper level creaked underfoot, driving Talon completely mad. Making this much noise with such a light step was against everything that he stood for. Stealth was so deeply ingrained in him that his mind screamed with every incessant step. These stairs would be the death of him. After finally reaching the top, a wave of relief washed over him as the wooden floor of the second level was completely silent. This relief, however, was soon followed by yet another wave of emotions, this time anxiety at the realization that he would have to go back down those stairs at some point tomorrow. Or he could just jump out of the window. Surely the owners wouldn't mind so long as he didn't break anything.

Talon reached for the questionably unstable doorknob and felt a magic seal release at his touch. It was clear he was expected, but whether that was a good or bad thing remained to be seen. A twist of the doorknob and a cautious push revealed an incredibly standard and poorly lit room with nothing out of the ordinary, save for the sorceress standing by the window.

"Oh good, I was worried the poor girl at the counter had failed to follow my instructions. It's terribly boring business, standing in an empty room and waiting for the arrival of someone who may or may not show up. I was beginning to think I came all the way out here for nothing." The woman snapped her fingers, bringing light to the once dark room. Even lanterns and candle wicks adhered to the beck and call of magic users. The light illuminated the woman's face, revealing porcelain skin framed with icy blue hair. His suspicions were confirmed.

"Hello, Evaine." He was careful not to let his voice carry any emotion. Interacting with anyone from the Black Rose, Evaine in particular, was a careful dance of words and tone inflections. This wasn't due to any risk of manipulation, it was simply that Evaine had tendencies that bordered on sadism, and there were no targets she would prefer to break down than someone as stoic as Talon. Everything she did was to achieve the strange satisfaction of getting under his skin. As a matter of pride, he could not let her have it.

Her red lips curled at her realization of his resistance, signifying the beginning of her games. Evaine sat at the foot of the bed and crossed her legs, her already revealing skirt rising to dangerous levels. A strange tiara-like decoration hung from a single of her fingers, being twirled about like a child's toy. He didn't understand why she didn't just put it on, but perhaps looking too deeply into it was a part of her games. "Our soldiers landed on Ionian shores today," she said. "Young Riven is on the front lines."

Already, she was aiming for his weak points. He would have to endure this for a short while before she got bored of it and her inner conversationalist emerged, but that short while would be gruesome. Talon scoffed. "If that's true, then I feel sorry for the Ionians."

"Oh? You're quite confident. I'm personally a little worried for the girl." The sorceress stopped spinning the headpiece, now intently examining it as she turned it with her hands, eventually setting it down beside her.

"Please, I'm sure you couldn't care less." He would have said so even if she didn't express her concerns so offhandedly. Whatever this ornament was, she was clearly rather taken with it, especially so since it consumed more of her attention than the allies she was apparently so 'worried' for.

"You wound me. What kind of unfeeling crone do you take me for, Talon? Regardless of her skills in combat, she's good for our soldiers' morale; losing her would mean losing a valuable tool for our war effort. Ionians can be scary, my dear boy; and Riven hasn't learned that lesson like we have. I just hope that when she does, it doesn't cost her anything too serious."

Talon didn't respond to that. She actually made a good point. Riven was strong, but many of the Ionian fighting arts were foreign to her. All it would take was one moment of hesitation, one exotic strike she didn't know how to defend, and she could end up dead. That wasn't a thought he wanted to entertain, and he chose to change the subject as a result.

"I know you didn't come all the way out here to vent your anxiety. That bird was yours, wasn't it?"

Evaine lit up at the mention of her familiar, her genuine smile creating an image that heavily contrasted with the ominous blacks and violets of her outfit. As strange as it was to see, Talon had to admit she was pretty when she was being sincere.

"Did you like it? It's not a very complex trick, but I just can't get enough of those blue flames; they're just so entrancing."

"Evaine," Talon urged.

Immediately, the light from the sorceress's demeanor was gone, her eyes showing a flash of the fearsome magic user she truly was. "If you insist. With Zelos dead, we have at least a week before Demacia learns of the invasion. We need someone in Demacia to smooth the news over with officials when they do."

"Understandable," Talon remarked, "but why have me go with that tired old alias? I doubt you chose me on account of my skills in diplomacy."

Evaine stifled a laugh. "I think you underestimate the impression you left on King Jarvan III after your last espionage mission. It seems those thick-headed zealots rather admired your no-nonsense approach to diplomacy… A rather predictable outcome if you really think about it. Besides, you're after that Quinn girl, aren't you? It would be easier to make non-suspicious contact with her if you mingle with her superiors, don't you think?"

"I suppose it would be easier," he answered. "I suppose it would also be convenient for me to suffer the wrath of incensed Demacians and be taken out of the Black Rose's hair."

"Ah, that would be the day," Evaine joked. "A carriage will come for you tomorrow morning. It will have all the coin you should need for your trip as well a trunk with various formal outfits that should be your size. My associates have made sure you will be expected."

"Thank you… I guess."

"While your gesture is appreciated, you know as well as I do that we're only here because you'll be of use to our organization as a whole. The day the Black Rose does something out of the goodness of its heart is the day Noxus dies. Remember, diplomacy comes first. I don't care how much or in what manner you chase after that ranger of yours so long as you can talk their leadership away from violence. In the worst case, they could march on Noxus directly while our forces are away, and while we definitely have the means to hold our grounds in that case… I shudder to think of releasing the powers such a feat would require."

Evaine rose from her seat on the bed and quickly prepared a circular sigil on the floor, picking up her headpiece in the process. While he hadn't seen it often, Talon knew she used this 'distortion' spell to teleport.

"You aren't staying to catch up?" the assassin asked, "That's unlike you."

"As much as I would love to let you use the pretense of conversation to ogle me some more, I have recently come into… a position of greater responsibility within the Black Rose, and I am not afforded the luxury of time as I once was. I doubt we'll be able to continue our talks like we used to from here on." Evaine stepped onto her sigil and snapped her fingers, extinguishing all of the light-producing flames she had created earlier. "It was a pleasure as always, sewer rat. Do come back safely." And with that, the sigil rose from Evaine's feet to her head, sending Noxus's most enigmatic sorceress to some far off destination he likely didn't know existed.

Talon took a deep breath and undressed, throwing himself lazily onto his bed. These next few weeks were going to be incredibly troublesome, but he was willing to endure it if he meant he could reach Quinn. Talon recalled an endless amount of codes of Demacian etiquette and formality that he had stored in the deep recesses of his brain from previous diplomatic ventures until eventually, his consciousness faded. His thoughts of strict and foreign rules and regulations were replaced with dreams of Riven's touch and the night they had spent together. He would admonish himself for growing soft in the morning, but for now, the dawn was still a long way off.

* * *

 **A/N: Looks like I'm not dead after all. This is a pretty slow chapter in my eyes, but now that it's out of the way I'll get to move on to the part of the story that I've been meaning to write since day one. I hope you guys will stick with me (if there are any of you left, that break was seriously long) and as always, thanks for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7

If there was one thing Talon could appreciate about Demacia, it was its people's taste for aesthetics. Everything from the outer walls to the Hall of Valor was crafted from immaculate white marble. The entire kingdom radiated order and steadfast devotion to duty. If there were truly such things as absolute good and evil, it was clear Demacia wanted to appear to be the good. Demacia City was the embodiment of this architectural philosophy. The Demacian people had moved mountains to create the grand palaces and temples Demacia City boasted. Enemy or not, the majesty of the Demacian capitol city was nothing to scoff at, even for someone as generally disinterested in such things as Talon. Maybe somewhere in numerous forced conversations with Demacia's nobility during his previous stays here, he had actually come to believe all of the false veneration that came out of his mouth. Whatever the case, architectural perfectionism had afforded his stagecoach a smooth ride into the city without a single bump in the road, and in the end, that was all that really mattered.

"Lord Bertrand," called his stage driver as he slowed the vehicle to a stop, "we've arrived at the Citadel of Dawn. There appears to be an escort waiting for you by the front gate."

"Thank you," he said as he dismounted the stagecoach. "Wait, how do I look?" Talon turned to the stage driver and held out his hands as if to present himself. He was wearing a dark gray justacorps coat accented by a red cravat and accompanied by a black undershirt and a pair of slacks that matched the coat. The outfit in general was rather outdated, but Talon felt it suited him well. Ultimately, the only justification he needed when questioned by his sisters was 'if that insufferable hemomancer can wear them, so can I".

The elderly man piloting the stagecoach closely examined him for a few seconds before coming up with an answer. "Re-tie your hair; it seems to have gotten a bit messy during the ride over here. Other than that, you are presentable."

"Thank you for your services," Talon said as he pulled the band out of his brown hair. Normally, he would let his hair down and simply tie a small portion of it into a tail in the back, but that hardly made for a formal appearance. That being the case, on less casual occasions such as meeting the Demacian king (which happened to be exactly what he was doing), he would simply tie the whole of his hair back into a single low ponytail. He deftly redid the ponytail and departed the stagecoach, approaching the main entrance of the Citadel of Dawn.

"Ambassador Raschallion, I presume?" asked one of the guards. "I'll need your missive of invitation if I'm to let you in."

Talon reached into his coat and pulled out a scroll that was loosely tied by a ribbon, handing it over to the guardsman. He had received this missive at the inner gates of Demacia City. Apparently, the guard staff had been given the missive with instructions to deliver it to him as soon as the king had heard of Talon's plans to serve in Demacia again. Evaine had told him he left a good impression on King Jarvan III, but this was beyond his expectations.

The guardsman unrolled the parchment, reading only the first two lines of the missive and skipping straight to the wax seal at the bottom. "Very good sir, you may pass. I would take this time to remind the ambassador that punishments for uncouth behavior or actions in the Citadel of Light are far graver than they otherwise would be. Do mind yourself while inside."

"Of course." Talon walked through the massive double doors that were opened before him, stepping into the massive interior of Demacia's royal palace. A few dozen aristocrats dotted the throne room, conversing among themselves and drinking to their hearts' delight. Under normal circumstances, Talon would have tried to nonchalantly blend in with the crowd, observing the crowd and getting a general feel for the room and its occupants, but the opening of impossibly heavy doors tends to draw the attention of people nearby. Consequently, nearly everyone in the room shot him a glance, even if only for a moment, to see who had entered, the king included. The man was getting on in his years, but his eyesight was apparently still good enough to identify Talon from quite a distance. He quickly raised a hand to silence the noble he was previously conversing with.

"You there! Is that you, Bertrand?" the king called.

"It is indeed, Your Majesty," Talon answered. "I am glad to have been remembered."

The king chuckled at Talon's humility, knowing that it was not in his true nature at all. "Come, join me. My day has been rather dull, and I'm eager for good company." This seemed to upset the noble he was with, as he quickly made his way to another group far from the throne. Talon obliged and slowly made his way to Jarvan III. Before he could shake the monarch's hand, a middle-aged man clad in archaic armor and wielding a large spear stepped between them.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," spoke Xin Zhao, the king's personal bodyguard, "you have the movements of a fighter. You must have distinguished yourself greatly to be given the position of special ambassador to Demacia despite your family's treachery, yet no soldier in Demacia has ever heard of any 'Bertrand Raschallion'. I expect a proper answer this time; who are you?"

Xin Zhao had always been a bit confrontational when Talon was here, and for good reason. His logic was sound; it was nearly impossible for anyone whose family was involved in a coup attempt to be appointed to such an important office without rendering the kind of distinguished service that would generate rumors that would spread all the way to Demacia. The story just didn't add up. However, just as before, Talon was prepared to talk his way around it.

"You must have been quite taken with me to have interviewed every last soldier in the Demacian military. I must say, I'm flattered."

The man known as the Seneschal of Demacia tightened his grip on his spear, clearly not taking well to Talon's teasing. "I will _not_ tolerate any level of disrespect from a Noxian, even a so-called special ambassador."

"Disrespect? I have nothing but the utmost respect for you, master Xin Zhao. If you'll allow me to say, I was still an impressionable young boy when the name Viscero was chanted on the tongues of every Noxian in the country. You're something of an idol to me."

"You have a strange way of showing it, Noxian," Xin Zhao replied. "Now, are you going to answer my question?"

"I hate to disappoint you, Xin Zhao, but I really didn't do anything that spectacular. Has it ever occurred to you that this is High Command's way of keeping me under their thumb? It would reflect quite poorly on them if they were to out of their way to murder every Raschallion in Noxus just because my puffed-up cousin thought he could take over; yet they can't exactly let me go, can they? So, they gave me this position. I'm only out of their sight when I absolutely need to be."

Xin Zhao's furrowed brow blatantly showed the skepticism he had for the story Talon had put forth. "And how does a political prisoner go straight to being 'special ambassador'? Why not something less important?"

"It happens quite easily, apparently. It's really not as prestigious a job as it sounds. All the 'special' means is that I'm sent irregularly and at the whim of High Command."

"Do you honestly thi-"

"That's enough, Xin Zhao," Jarvan III interjected, "As justified as your accusation was, I'll allow it to go no further. The last thing we need is some pointless fight making relations between our nations more difficult than they already are."

"Of course, my liege," Xin Zhao said, relaxing his grip on his spear.

"My apologies, Your Majesty," Talon said, "My behavior was inappropriate. I assure you I did not come to your kingdom with the intention to start any form of conflict."

"Please, your lack of tact is half the reason I like you. We don't have enough sharp tongues in Demacian high society. That aside, I must say I share in my retainer's concerns over the legitimacy of your claimed identity, as do a majority of my advisers. However, as you have never been hostile or detrimental to my court or kingdom, I am willing to let your story go unchallenged.'

"As you wish," Talon said with a bow.

"Now, I'm curious," King Jarvan began. "What exactly is the occasion that warrants sending you here in the first place?"

Talon let out a deep breath. "I'm afraid I'm not entirely sure myself; I'm not as privileged to information as my title would suggest. I just know they want me here. That being said, until my purpose here is made clear, I am resolved to be productive during my stay. If there is anything you require of me, I am ready to comply."

Xin Zhao's eyes rolled at the irony that dripped from that statement.

"I see," Jarvan replied. "In that case, we'll just have to make the most of what we can. Until we find a use for you, is there anything you'd like to do? A tour perhaps? Maybe you'd like to meet someone?" The king paused for a moment, losing himself to thought. "That reminds me," he said, "you haven't met my son."

"You're right, I don't believe I have."

"I'll arrange a small banquet tonight," Jarvan said. "You'll have an opportunity to see him there. Plus, it gives me an easy way to keep an eye on you."

He wasn't wrong. You had to be the king to be able to be so blunt about it, though. "I look forward to it greatly," Talon said. "Actually, regarding your offer, there is someone I'd very much like to be introduced to."

"And who might that be?" King Jarvan asked.

"The ranger that managed to bring Talon within an inch of his life. The story of his defeat is still quite popular in Noxus."

"Hah! You must mean Quinn. I don't believe she's on assignment, so she should still be in Demacia City somewhere; I'll have a messenger see if she can make our little dinner party. She's probably busy, but with the way she looks at young Jarvan, I don't think she'll be turning down an opportunity to see him."

"My thanks, Your Majesty," Talon said. "I truly appreciate it. If his majesty would allow, I would very much like to see to my living arrangements at the embassy."

"Of course, go ahead," King Jarvan said, "I shouldn't keep you long anyway. The nobility would begin to hold a grudge if I neglected them for a Noxian for too long. I'll have transport sent to the embassy some time before the banquet."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. Now, if you'll excuse me."

* * *

Noxus's best-dressed assassin tirelessly wandered the candle-lit halls of the Citadel of Light, fueled by a refusal to admit he was lost and ask the servile staff for help. In most cases, the dining hall was not very far from the throne room. Believing this to be the case for the Demacia's own palace, he was quite convinced he was right when he assured the escort at the main entrance that he knew where he was going. It turned out to be that he was completely wrong; and that the dining hall was not anywhere near the throne room. Eventually, his pride decayed to the point where he was willing to ask anyone for directions, but now that he needed them, the staff had all but vanished.

A few more minutes passed before a feral anxiety made itself known to him. He hadn't felt like hunted prey since his encounter with Quinn, but that was entirely different circumstance. What could possibly be stalking him in the hallways of the Demacian palace?

Dragon ladies. The answer was dragon ladies.

Without warning, Talon felt himself being lifted off of the ground by the neck and slammed into a nearby wall. Taking a second for his eyes to recover their focus, he was afforded a brief look at his assailant. Much to his surprise, the woman attacking him had blue scales for skin, and the eyes of a reptilian predator.

 _Shyvana_. Probably the worst possible person to be caught suspiciously roaming the royal palace by. In all honesty, he would be lucky if she didn't kill him there; she was known for having a rather short fuse when it came to such things. Should he fight back? Could he fight back? Even if his defeat was imminent, it was better than dying without a struggle.

"I thought I smelled Noxian…" Shyvana said to no one in particular. Her voice was deep and inhuman, as if it was made to serve the purpose of making her prey piss themselves in fear.

"I-I'm an ambassador," Talon managed to say through the crushing grip around his throat.

"Not likely," Shyvana answered. "Though I suppose you would have to be an ambassador to even think about wearing _that_ ," she said, her eyes turning to his justacorps.

That was the last straw. This woman-dragon-thing was dead.

* * *

The world around Talon moved in a blur as he went flying through a set of wooden double-doors. Before his senses could reorient themselves, he could already hear the demon-woman's voice.

"My king, I found this rat scurrying through the hallways. What would you have me do with him?"

"Is that… Bertrand?" he heard the king ask. A silent moment of realization passed before numerous voices in the room burst out into laughter.

This had to be the banquet room. Talon's sight returned, and he immediately used it to ensure Shyvana's attack had indeed relented. To his delight, the half-breed was standing in the doorway looking completely dumbstruck.

"Leave him Shyvana," an unfamiliar voice called from the table, "he's a guest."

"As you wish, my prince."All hostility dropped from the dragon-woman, and she casually walked to the table like a lazy feline with nothing better to do.

The pain in Talon's body eventually subsided enough for him to rise to his feet and scan the room. Many of the banquet's attendees were familiar faces: King Jarvan III, Xin Zhao (who had yet to stop laughing at his entry), Garen and Luxanna Crownguard, Shyvana, and Quinn were among the faces he recognized. There was one, however, that he did not recognize. The man who sat between Shyvana and the king had a rugged look to him, further accentuated by his muscular physique and five-o'-clock shadow. He didn't recognize the man, but it was rather obvious who he was: Prince Jarvan IV. It also just so happened that he only seat available at the table was almost directly across from him. Seeing as the seat directly across from the prince was occupied by a certain unkempt ranger, he couldn't help but feel this layout was contrived by someone who knew exactly what he wanted out of this meeting. Talon took his seat and settled in, doing his best not to look or feel like the fish out of water he was. To his delight, this feeling soon passed. Nearly everyone at the table began striking up conversations among themselves, something that shouldn't have come as much of a surprise given that they were all friends in one way or another.

"Ah, Bertrand," King Jarvan began, "Let me take this opportunity to introduce you to my son, Jarvan IV."

"It's a pleasure, Prince Jarvan. I still remember how worried everyone was when I was here last. It's good to know your travels were exciting enough to spawn Demacian legends."

The prince laughed at this flattery. "I assure you it was nothing so pleasant as the stories would have you believe. I spent many of those years facing death itself on a near constant basis. Many of my best and most loyal soldiers died fighting at my side. There was no glory, no honor. It was a life or death struggle through which I forged my newfound resolve to serve this nation as its prince, and one day, its king."

"I see," Talon answered. Talon could see what he was talking about. Even by simply looking at his face, one could see a man wise beyond his years, with determination that had been tested and reinforced after countless battles. This prince was strong, far stronger than the man who currently called himself king. "Glorious or no, you must have accomplished some rather impressive feats to have earned the loyalty of a fierce warrior like Shyvana. I couldn't imagine myself even coming close to comparing."

"Noxus is not a nation that prides itself on humility, nor does it have any place at a table of warriors," Shyvana said. "You shouldn't sell yourself short. If I had the strength of a normal human, our fight in the hallway would have had a very different outcome."

The prince sat in awe of his companion's words. "I must say I'm surprised; it's not often that Shyvana praises anyone's skills in battle."

"What I think is more surprising is how similar you two look," the king interrupted, gesturing to the Talon and Quinn. "It's frankly a little unsettling to see you two sitting next to each other."

"Do you think so?" Talon asked, turning to the young woman beside him. Talon didn't look into mirrors often, but he certainly felt like he was now. Save for more feminine lines in her bone structure expression, she was almost a perfect reflection of him. She had the same eyes, hair, chin; the list went on and on. It was clear in Quinn's general look of discomfort that she too saw the resemblance. Seeking to take advantage of the moment, Talon spoke up.

"Actually, speaking of Quinn, there is a story that I'd like to hear, if you don't mind telling it."

"And what would that be?" Prince Jarvan asked.

"I'd like to hear about how our ranger here managed to put Talon in a healer's tent. That's not an achievement many can match."

Quinn seemed to shrink under the weight of three people's attention. "It's nothing that interesting. I just shot him a few times."

"Come to think of it, I never did ask you about that directly, I just read the report," Prince Jarvan admitted. "I'd rather like to hear how it all happened in person."

Quinn quickly crumbled under the prince's pressure. It seemed the rumors of her being a commoner were true; she had no idea how to stand up for herself when around nobility. Or maybe it was something else.

"Well, as you all should know, Valor and I were dispatched once we started getting reports of a man fitting Talon's description leading an offensive campaign in the area. It took a few days, but eventually we found him roaming the area around his most recent conquered base. He didn't seem to detect me, so once I saw him distracted by Valor I took a shot. That's where everything got out of control." Her eyes gradually went out of focus as she recalled the encounter she had. "By some super-human reflex, he managed to dodge my bolt and was immediately alerted to my presence. I couldn't see through his helmet, but I could _feel_ the smile on his face. It was in his posture, it was in his breathing, he was happy to be the one at a disadvantage. Then, he just started sprinting at the spot I had shot from. I had moved by then, and I was able to line up another shot. This time, though, he had a knife ready, and he threw it at me the moment I fired. I managed to stick his leg, but his knife hit my shoulder. I started to worry that I might not have the upper hand much longer, so I called Valor down. Val held his attention long enough for me to land another bolt, this time in his stomach. That still wasn't enough. This time, he managed to move Valor aside and see me. I'm still not really sure what happened after that; he just kind of appeared next to me, ready to kill. I managed to knock his blade away with Val's perch and kick off of him, but right before I could line up my next shot, he just vanished. Next thing you know, Val and I are getting shredded by a mass of blades that just kinda appeared out of nowhere and went flying around. After that it was pretty much over. Val and I went back to camp to get treated, and Talon was gone. Until you mentioned it just now, I thought he had died. Even under all that black armor, I could tell he was bleeding a lot." The ranger sighed at the realization that the fight she had described might not be her last encounter with the man. "I really don't want to see him again."

"How long did this whole thing take?" King Jarvan asked. Apparently, he had tuned back into the conversation at some point during the story.

"A minute, maybe a little less," Quinn replied.

"Goodness," Talon began, "that sounds like it was quite the intense engagement. That story just reaffirms my belief that I could never handle the heat of battle like you warriors do."

"I almost feel sorry for you, Quinn," the king said, "almost your entire career as a Demacian scout has been tracking down that rogue."

"Well, to be fair, the assassin that made a move on you turned out not to be Talon at all, but yes, he has been the focus of much of my time in service to the crown."

Aside from the occasional retelling of an old war story, much of the night was filled with laughter. Even Talon found himself letting out a genuine chuckle every now and again. Luxanna's ear-piercing laugh in particular was quite effective at inducing a table-wide uproar. By the time of the banquet's end, Talon found himself almost unwilling to leave. However, rules were rules, and he saw himself out of the palace, ready to board the stagecoach that would take him back to the Noxian embassy. It was the sight of a familiar ranger leaving the Citadel of light that stopped him. The mere sight of her triggered within him an itch that had been bothering him more and more lately. It was probably going to prove fruitless, but he had to ask. Talon instructed his stage driver to wait for a moment as he briskly jogged to Quinn's side, the sound of his boots striking marble echoing uncontested in the now lifeless Demacian streets.

"Oh, Ambassador Raschallion. Is there something you need?" she asked as she saw him approach.

"Well yes, actually, there is," Talon answered. He damned himself for being so jittery, but it couldn't be helped.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but can you make it quick? I need to get back to Valor soon or he'll start making a mess of my house."

"Of course, of course. This may sound ridiculous, and I honestly don't expect you to know what I'm talking about, but I need you to humor me. Does the name Caleb mean anything to you?"

Even through the darkness of the deep night, Talon could see her whole body tense at his mention of the name.

"How do you know that name?" she demanded. "I haven't told anyone about that; why do you know that name!?" she crabbed Talon's cravat and pulled him toward her, her emotions in a state of frenzy. Clearly he had hit a sensitive subject.

"Please, Quinn, I didn't mean to offend you. I just want to know who Caleb is," Talon urged.

Quinn let go and began to breathe deeply, trying to get her feelings under control. If I tell you who Caleb is, will you tell me how you know the name?" she asked.

"You may not like my answer, but yes, I will," he answered.

Quinn took another deep breath and spoke. "Caleb was my twin brother."

He couldn't believe it. With one sentence, Talon's world had been broken apart and pieced together at the exact same time.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Yay, we're back to (almost) weekly releases. If I wasn't so lazy, this would have been the second half of chapter 7, but I had hit a bit of a wall back then and wanted to meet my promise of weekly chapters, so here we are. Hope you enjoy!"**

* * *

"I answered your question," Quinn said, "now you answer mine! How is it that you know that name, and why, of all people in this kingdom, did you have to ask _me_?"

"I… I'd prefer not to talk about it here," Talon answered. "Perhaps you could come back with me to the embassy? Or maybe I could go back with you?"

Quinn rolled her eyes at the ambassador's new conditions. Still, as annoying as they were, she wanted answers more than anything. "Let's take your stagecoach back to house. You can leave when we're done."

Talon nodded at her suggestion and informed his stage driver of their new destination as Quinn got in. Quinn's home was close by, likely arranged so that she could receive emergency orders from the crown quickly and easily. Short as it was, the ride there was overcome by an overbearing silence. Both of them wanted to figure this issue out, and neither wanted to wait. When they arrived, the two practically raced inside, their speed fueled by a terrible anxiety. A familiar bird squawked an obnoxious greeting as soon as Quinn stepped through the threshold, followed by an even more obnoxious screech of hostility upon seeing Talon.

"Quiet, Val, he's a friend for now," Quinn reassured her pet. To Talon's amazement, the bird actually quieted itself, almost as though it could understand human speech. "Sorry about that," Quinn said, "Val's not used to visitors." The Demacian ranger motioned to the couch in her living room as she sat down, inviting him to accompany her.

"I see." Talon took a seat and paused a moment to gather his thoughts. "Well, allow me to begin. As I said earlier, you may not find my story very credible, but I promise you it's the truth. For as long as I can remember, I've occasionally dreamed of playing with a girl in a forest. I don't actually know either of them, but it always feels like the girl is my closest friend, and the forest is my home. Now normally, that wouldn't be too strange, but the reason it means so much to me is that I can't actually remember anything from my early childhood. I don't know my real name and I don't know where I'm from. It's like I just woke up one day, alone in the Noxian sewers with nothing but the clothes on my back. To this day, I can't help but feel like that dream might be the last fragments of memory that I lost."

"Okay…" Quinn began, "but how do you know the name 'Caleb'?"

"Right, for some reason, the girl in the dream I had always called me Caleb."

The ranger was visibly unnerved by that. "And why did you choose to ask me about it?" she asked hesitantly, it was clear a part of her didn't want the answer to that question.

"Just look at us," Talon said. "If there was any chance the girl in my dreams was real, it would have to be you. You look _just_ like her; and I look just like _you_. This was my one shot in the dark at getting an answer. If it was nothing and I was talking nonsense, I could bury the thought of this estranged past forever, but if you knew the name? Well… here we are."

Quinn stood up and started pacing around the living room. "This is ridiculous," she said, exasperation riding on her words, "Caleb is dead. I saw him fall. I saw him bleed…" Recalling the memories of her loss was beginning to bring her to tears, and one could hear it in her voice. "Sure, the body was gone when I brought help, but we were so far away from home, and the blood would have attracted predators… They all told me he was gone." She turned to Talon again and stared at his face for a time. He didn't speak, and simply allowed her to have her moment. Eventually, she approached him, and reached behind his head. She undid his ponytail and began weaving her fingers through his hair to reach his skin.

Talon winced as her cold fingertips touched the back of his head. Quinn's face was close to his now, but her distant eyes told him that all of her attention was with her hands. Eventually, her fingers stopped, having brushed against a scar Talon had all but forgotten, and life snapped back into her eyes. A moment passed and her tears began to fall with renewed intensity. She buried her head in his shoulder and began sobbing. "Caleb, it's really you," she muttered into his coat. "I can't believe it. To think you ended up in Noxus; how did you even find me?"

Talon was worried that question would find its way into their reunion. Right now his head was spinning with confusion and unfamiliar emotions. He had a family, a real one. This woman that was holding him was not only his twin sister, but a living reminder that his life was once filled with innocence and joy. The tear soaked smile she bore was proof that he was once happy. Was it right to burden the person that served as the cornerstone of his serene youth with the truth? Would knowing his true identity ruin his chance of reclaiming such a life? Did he even want to? He may have been called Caleb long ago, but that time was lost to him; 'Caleb' may as well have been an entirely different person. He was Talon. For as long as he could recall, he lived as Talon. He starved as Talon, he struggled as Talon, he killed as Talon, and he was feared as Talon. Whatever life it was that was being offered didn't belong to him anymore. As his sister had said, Caleb died long ago.

At least, that is what he would say if the one fragment from that forgotten past that persisted through his dreams and lingered in his mind wasn't before him. Even if he didn't know who Caleb used to be, _she_ did, and she was overjoyed to have him back, in whatever form he came. She stood by him and gave him happiness for years; she deserved the truth. If not for her sake, then for Talon's. It was Talon that had come all this way, that had overcome poverty and hardship in spite of all odds, and as such, he could not be brushed off for convenience sake. Quinn would know that the boy she once knew was now Talon; what she did after was her choice.

Having reaffirmed his decision, Talon grabbed Quinn's arms and gently took them off of him. "It's really not a long story," he said as he stood. The assassin took a bit of his loose hair and tied in his signature small tail. "As you already know, Bertrand Raschallion is not my real name, but it is not what I am called in Noxus either. For the last fifteen years, I have been known as Talon."

"What!?" It was clear that Quinn's former air of familiarity vanished, and a massive distance could be felt slowly growing between them. "You're serious… If that's the case, what are you doing here? Who was your target!?"

Talon maintained a relaxed posture and slow movements to gradually disarm his counterpart. However this argument went, he did not want to come to blows. "I'm not here to kill anyone this time. I only came to find the person who gave me such a good fight and thank them for it."

Quinn sighed, desperately trying to process this new information.

"I'm willing to stay and talk, if you want. I may not know you well, but if I can offer you some kind of closure, I feel my sister is owed that much."

"Why would you call me that? Are you trying to mock me?" Quinn asked.

"I do have some memories of the times we used to play together, scarce as they may be. Those may very well be the happiest memories I have."

Quinn averted her gaze, unsure if she should believe Talon's words.

"Listen, I just want to talk to you. I need you to fill in the blanks in my memory. In return, I can tell you what happened to me afterwards. You'll know your brother ended up here, and how he lived."

"'Closure,'" Quinn repeated. She sat in silent thought for a time. "Okay, sit down. Where do you want me to start?"

"Well, I've always wanted to know my birthday…"

Talon sat and listened intently for nearly an hour as he learned of his childhood, his Demacian heritage, his dreams, and the accident that saw him fall from a small cliff and suffer a massive concussion, each accompanied by a sliver of his previously lost memory. In turn, Quinn too learned of Talon's earliest memories of waking up in the sewers of Noxus, taking up the blade to adapt to his environment, and his ascension to the right hand of a Noxian general. Throughout their stories, the gap between them grew smaller, and despite their stance as enemies, they both felt as though they were in the company of an old friend.

Quinn rested her head in her hand, mulling over everything Talon had told her. "So, all this time, one of Demacia's greatest enemies was just a victim of circumstance. Still, to be in the service of a lord, I guess it's not too far off from the dreams of knighthood we had as kids."

"I suppose not," he answered, "though the work is likely a bit dirtier than my younger self would have expected."

Quinn stifled a laugh at what she could only interpret as Talon's attempt at humor. "You know, when I met you in that forest, all I could sense behind that stupid mask of yours was this overwhelming hostility, but you're actually kinda nice. Hell, every now and then, you'll see a 'wanted' poster with your picture on it. They give you this really robust chin and exaggerated features, and yet in person you're not bad looking. Though, I guess you would have to be pretty handsome, being my twin and all."

"Was that a compliment or you just flattering yourself?" Talon asked.

"A bit of both," Quinn answered, taking a moment to enjoy the first sibling banter she had the privilege to participate in for over a decade. "So what do you plan to do?" Quinn asked. "I doubt you're going to stay here."

"A difficult question. I didn't plan on this going as well as it has. Still, as much as I'd like to stay, I do have my obligations back home. Now that my affairs over here are in order, I'll likely be leaving tomorrow."

"I figured you'd have something to do, but tomorrow? I thought you were planning on being here for a bit longer than a couple days."

"It was more of a 'leave as soon as I can' type matter," Talon said. "There are people waiting for me to get back."

A knowing look made its way to Quinn's face. "There's only one kind of person most people prioritize over family, Talon. Would you care to explain why you skipped over your significant other in your thrilling retelling of your life?"

Talon glared at his sister, earning an even bigger teasing smile in response. Even in Demacia, women were wicked seers that could pick his life apart with only the smallest of clues at their disposal. "Because she _isn't_ my significant other."

"But you want her to be, right? I mean, why else would you be leaving your sister in such a hurry?"

Wicked seers. All of them.

"Look, I've known her for a little while, and our relationship is just getting off of the ground." Talon scoffed at his own words. What was he doing? She didn't need a detailed explanation of his love life. "Why do you even care?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Quinn asked. "My only brother resurfaces after fifteen years and he's sweet on a Noxian girl? I have to make sure she's not going to get hitched to some creepy necromancer with long nails that kicks puppies in her spare time." The caged eagle in the room squawked in agreement.

Talon's mouth hung open, ready to respond, but no words emerged. He should be offended by that, but he had actually seen one or two necromancers who were chronic animal abusers, so he was having difficulty coming up with a coherent retort. At last, he relented, sensing that she wasn't going to let him go easily unless he gave her all of the details. "How much do you want to know?"

"All of it," Quinn replied.

"Fine." It took only a brief moment for him to recall the features of the woman who was almost always on his mind. "She's a very beautiful woman, though a bit tomboyish, not unlike yourself. She has the most unusual-"

* * *

 **Snow white hair** glistened under the rays of the Ionian sun. Some strands flew loosely and danced in the island's winds, others stuck to her face, held in place by the sweat of a hard fought battle.

* * *

"Her skin tone is also somewhat odd; she actually has this exotic-"

* * *

 **Tan skin** burned with her body's heat, radiating it to the surrounding air, the sensation a private badge of honor for an honest effort.

* * *

"She's an upstanding Noxian, as a citizen and soldier. High Command even recognized her devotion and gifted her-"

* * *

 **A massive black blade** dripped the blood of her enemies onto the fertile soil beneath her feet. How many lives flowed into the red puddle under her sword? Were they men? Women? Children? She couldn't even count her sins; all she had killed were indistinguishable when returned to the foundation of their lives: blood.

* * *

"Her gaze is entrancing. I nearly lose myself whenever she looks at me with those-"

* * *

 **Light brown eyes** stared lifelessly into the distance, trying to see anything but the sea of corpses that threatened to drown her.

* * *

"But I've seen beautiful women before, and I haven't fallen head over heels for each one that crossed my path. What caught my eye wasn't her looks, but-"

* * *

 **Her innocent smile** was lost, likely never to return. The naïve girl had been a victim of her own eagerness to fight in a true war, and had grown into a cynical, wizened veteran.

* * *

"Okay, so what's her name?" Quinn asked.

"Her name is-"

* * *

" **Riven**!"

The voice stirred the girl from her self-imposed trance, bringing her back to the reality she was trying to ignore. The white-haired swordswoman turned to face the man who had addressed her, careful to keep her eyes off of the ground.

"General Du Couteau," she answered, "do you need something?"

The general's tied red hair remained steadfast in the Ionian breeze, a faithful representation of his own soul which stood unwavering, even in the face of disaster or adversity. "I need you to get it together. Zaun's machines are on the move again, and our troops can't follow without their captain."

"Of course, General. I'll be right with you."

The sound of canon fire on the distant coasts caught the attention of the Noxian officers.

"Ionian artillery!?" Riven asked.

"No, it's too frequent." Marcus corrected. He listened intently before a confident smile pulled at his lips. "That would be my Katarina and the Bilgewater privateer fleets. It looks like this war is finally in full-swing."

* * *

 **A/N: Brace yourselves: Riven solo chapter incoming!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Well this came out a bit later than I had expected, but it's finally here. Hope you enjoy! If you don't happen to be super well-versed in the lore, I highly recommend opening another tab and keeping it on the "Ionia" page of the league wiki (that's how I wrote this so it will probably be really helpful). Every place mentioned in this chapter is listed under the "locations" section of the wiki page.**

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Riven sat in the large tent that served as the Noxian forces' mobile war room, the ambient sound of the surrounding camp slightly muffled by the tent's leathery surface. Its interior was incredibly minimalist in design, largely due to the constant advance of the army. A scarce few foldable chairs were arranged around a massive map that was stuck into the ground by two long rods on either end. Despite its purpose, the tent rarely saw any visitors aside from General Du Couteau and the occasional messenger. As such, Riven made it a habit to come here when she wanted to reflect on the war. At least, that was what she told herself. A part of her knew that she actually sought to avoid reflecting on her battles, or perhaps even thinking at all. The Noxian shock force was a brutal and efficient beast, bringing death to all that lay before it and crippling that which held its ground. Zaunite war machines on the cutting edge of experimental science followed by Noxus's most elite units of ground fighters turned what should have been vicious and hard-fought battles into one-sided slaughter. It was a tactic that betrayed the supposed honor of Noxus's philosophies, but General Du Couteau's justification was a sound one. The rationale for using such brutal approach was that the General wanted to prevent the loss of Noxian lives as much as possible, and that the repeated devastating losses served to demoralize the Ionian people. If they could drive the Ionians to surrender quickly, then their unwavering aggression on the battlefield would ultimately save Ionian lives.

"Something on your mind?"

Riven turned to see the General lazily looking over the map of the Ionian archipelago. The first few times he had done this, she had nearly died of a heart attack. By now, however, she was used to it, and upon the realization that moving in silence was ingrained into his body and mind, she ceased to hold it against him, as he most likely wasn't trying to startle her on purpose. How thoroughly must someone train to reach the point where it would actually be strange for them to be heard even in a casual setting? Whatever that threshold was, General Du Couteau had passed it, turned around, and passed it again.

"I'm fine," she answered, "just gathering myself for the next battle."

The General took a piece of charcoal out of his coat and marked an "X" over a circle that sat near the location of his troop's most recent deployment. The circles represented known deployments of Ionian forces. When crossed out, it signified their demise at the hand of Noxus. This crossed circle was one of many by now. If she hadn't watched him place it, she likely wouldn't have been able to tell there was a new one, and she saw the map almost as much as he did.

"So I take it your excursion went well?" Riven asked.

"Not as well as it could have," Marcus replied. He took a thumb to the map and rubbed away a charcoal triangle (signifying a Noxian deployment) that was poised to attack a nearby landmark labeled 'Temple of Pallas'.

"We lost?" Riven asked in disbelief. A small spark ignited within her, a hope that the Ionians would fight a war worthy of their dignity as a people was slowly returning to her.

"What I've heard from the survivors is that the temple was guarded by warriors more fierce than any we have encountered so far, the foremost among them some kind of archer. I'm not entirely sure how they did it, but they managed to force our men into a retreat."

"What do you intend to do about them?" she asked.

"I'm not sure I'm going to do anything," Marcus responded. "Aside from the fact that the Ionians seem to think it's important enough to guard with some of their best, we don't really know anything about it. Besides that, the temple itself isn't of any particular strategic value geographically. As long as its protectors don't abandon their post to fight us, leaving it alone shouldn't be a huge problem."

"If that's the case, why did you send troops to attack it in the first place?" Riven asked.

"I told you already, this campaign's purpose is to wither the Ionians' spirits. While taking the temple might be considered a misallocation of resources from the standpoint of conquest, its capture would have done quite a bit for us on that front."

Riven supposed he was right about that. She stood up and walked to Marcus's side, going over the map for herself.

"I didn't realize we had covered so much ground. Shon-Xan is almost entirely under our control. We could reach Navori within the month."

"That's not likely," Marcus said. "Navori is too close to the Ionian capital. The resistance we have faced would likely pale in comparison to the fighting we'll see as we approach it. If we launched a campaign to take the Placidium before the main force arrives, the vanguard army High Command entrusted to me would likely be torn apart."

Riven chided herself for how easily she had overlooked such a factor. The Ionians would undoubtedly double their efforts in battle once they realized they were fighting for their capital. She was still far off from being able to lead troops like General Du Couteau. "Then what do you intend to do while we're here?" Riven asked. "The main army won't be coming for another couple weeks."

"First, we will finish securing Shon-Xan, placing almost all of the territory immediately east of Navori in Noxian hands. Afterward, I will take a majority of the army southwest into the Zhyun province, leaving the rest to maintain our hold of Shon-Xan. Zhyun is mostly mountainous and of little strategic import, but the city of Tuula, and more importantly, the site of the Ionian Blossom Festival: the Jyom pass, lie within this province. The loss of the cultural center of the Jyom pass along with the destruction of the governing council in Zhyun should throw both Ionian hearts and politics into disarray. With the privateer fleets moving north to delay reinforcements to the south, Navori and the Ionian capital should still be at less than optimal strength when the main army arrives. I just hope they realize it when the time comes and surrender. Prolonging the conflict at that point would amount to nothing but needlessly throwing away their own people."

Riven stood still and fixed her gaze on the map, trying to envision the campaign Marcus had just surprised on its surface. The war looked so different from this side. The discrepancy between a few shapes being crossed out or scrubbed away from a surface of parchment and steel rending lives from soldiers' bodies was almost unfathomable to her. Surely Marcus understood this, being the trained killer that he was, but how many others within Noxus did not? What did the strange Zaunite man commanding the war machines know of honor or bloodshed? How many a Noxian had marched to their death in the name of a noble who threw them away with the levity of moving a playing piece on a board?

"Talon was right," Riven muttered to herself. Judging by the smile on Marcus's face, it was clear she had been heard.

"That boy doesn't talk enough to have said something that he was actually right about," Marcus joked. After not getting a response from his white-haired compatriot, he gave his attempt at humor a rest. "Tell me, what are you talking about?"

"It's just that seeing the map like this reminded me of something that Talon said."

"Oh? Do tell." Something about the look on his face told her that he wasn't asking out of genuine curiosity. This man likely already knew everything Talon would have found important enough to tell her during their training period. He was likely only humoring her out of interest in having his Crimson Elite officers of sound mind. Still, even with that being obvious, Riven wasn't about to pass up this chance to vent. If anyone had insight on the issue, it would be Marcus, a man who walked the line between nobility and warrior like a tightrope.

"In my early days with the Crimson Elite," she began, "Talon often spoke of the Noxian honor that I and many of our men believe in being a lie. He would say that it was only a convenient tool used to convince the common folk and soldiers to throw their lives away at the behest of the nobility."

A knowing smile spread across the general's face. "Unfortunately, I cannot say that he is entirely mistaken. It is all too common for the poor of our land to be abused by the wealthy and powerful, and for average citizens to bear the costs of petty wars waged between nobles."

Riven's face fell as she received the answer she dreaded hearing.

"However, he is not entirely correct either," Marcus added. "Noxus very much operates on the idea of integrating strength and shedding off weakness. One needs only a brief tour of Noxus Prime to see that the Noxian Empire is the most culturally diverse society on Runeterra. Such acceptance and tolerance of other people and their cultures is not due to some arbitrary magnanimity that happened to find its way into our empire, it is a result of our philosophy as a society. You can see the Noxian ideal in the diversity of its empire's architecture and people, in its methods of waging war, in its art, and most importantly, in the heart of every last man and woman willing to die to defend it: men and women like yourself. It is not perfectly prevalent in every tier of society, but it is very real."

There was no denying what Marcus said. The Noxian reverence for strength was apparent in every aspect of society. Even Talon himself, a denier though he may be, was a sterling example of it. He had risen from nothing and become a name many feared to utter.

"I suppose you're right, General," Riven said. "I guess it was a bit foolish to question the basis of our entire society. Though, I can't help but wonder why Talon still thinks the way he does if the evidence is all so obvious."

"For the answer to that, all you have to do is remember his past. Most of his formative years were spent as a victim of Noxus's flaws. The only face of Noxus that he knows is a face of corruption, manipulation, and ravenous exploitation of the weak. But, as we just confirmed, Noxus has other faces, most of them much brighter and far more influential to it. I have shown him the other sides of our empire, but the horrors of his life are not yet something he can overcome and look past." Marcus took a final look at the map before preparing new markings for his campaign to the West. "What about you, Riven? What do you think?"

"I haven't decided for sure, but Noxus is my nation and my home. I'm going to keep fighting for as long as I am needed."

"A commendable attitude," Marcus noted.

"Thank you, and thank you for listening; you've helped a ton."

"Of course."

"I'm going to head back to my tent. I'm sure you don't need me distracting you while you plan the next stage of our campaign."

"That would be most appreciated," Marcus said. "Go on and get some rest. You're going to need it."

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Riven's feet moved independently of her consciousness, repeating a cycle of movements in a loop that would continue until she made an active effort to stop. The Noxian army's march into Zhyun was much longer in person than it seemed on Marcus's map. Four days of relentless advance had left Riven and the vanguard army she marched with feeling like they were nothing more than Piltovian automatons designed to do nothing but march. The mild climate and refreshing coastal breeze of Ionia's southern regions were a godsend to the troops, but those had vanished a day or so ago when the army had crossed into Zhyun's mountain ranges. Now the march was riddled with narrow walkways of varying inclines and occasionally treacherous terrain; both of which demanded attention from the soldiers, draining their energy much faster than the mindless walking of the Shon-Xan plains. The caressing breeze of the march's beginning had been replaced with a cutting wind that tore through the mountain pass with unbridled force. Marching into such a strong wind with the heightened state of alertness required to navigate the mountain pass took an unprecedentedly heavy toll on the soldiers of the vanguard army. The previously scarcely used mountain paths were beaten anew by an endless snake of weary troops, never more than seven men wide for lack of space.

Soon, everyone was looking for a distraction from the panging aches of their bodies. It started as gossip. Every now and again, Riven would hear baseless rumors of the mysterious Zaunite man within their ranks. Numerous theories of why this so called 'Singed' man wore bandages around his mouth and what was really in that tank on his back swirled within the forward units. The attention the Zaunite man drew was mostly negative. If they weren't making remarks about his horrid appearance, they were calling him a coward for moving his machines from the front lines to the rear. As much as they badmouthed him, Riven knew it was a smart move. His war machines were large, archaic looking machines, and there could be no guarantee that they would be able to traverse the path without failure. If one broke down on the narrow passage, it would not do for it to hinder the entirety of the army that followed behind it.

Rarely, Riven would catch wind of her comrades of the frontline spotting people in the cliff face amidst the typical gossip and occasional song. It was being said that these watchers would appear only to vanish mere seconds later. Riven wasn't far from the front line, but she had not witnessed any of these supposed onlookers herself. If they were being watched, they couldn't tell by whom. With the mountain's gale blowing opposite the army's march, it was difficult for one to keep their face up and eyes open long enough to confirm such a sighting. Riven too suffered from this plight, and now more than ever she wished she had opted for the closed helmet variant of the Crimson Elite armor like Talon had. It did not take long for the rumors of being watched to give rise to an aura of unease among the troops. Marcus's men were smart enough to fear an ambush in an unfamiliar corridor such as this. The general had even gone out of his way to emphasize the danger of such an attack to Riven and his other captains before they had set out. Luckily, the last beams of light that shone from the sun as it set behind a mountain peak signaled an uneventful end to the fifth day of their march.

The army continued in the darkness until they could no longer safely advance without artificial light. Stopping for the night while still inside the pass had been unanimously agreed upon to be too dangerous, so they readied their preparations to continue forth. One of the soldiers in the front line called out behind him, and like a chain reaction, soldiers further and further back in the line echoed the first's message. Only a few seconds later, a resounding pop was heard throughout the mountain valley. Lo and behold, a new, low-hanging star appeared above the army, illuminating the valley to greater extent than Riven thought possible. This 'flare' was a recent fruit of Noxus's own scientific endeavors. While most within the empire had heard of this new invention, not many within the army had seen it before, as evidenced by the collective 'ooh's and 'ah's that could be heard. As fascinating as it was, they only had so many, and they needed to make the most of each one of them.

"March!" Riven shouted at the top of her lungs. Once again, her orders could be heard being echoed throughout the ranks, and the body of soldiers begun its advance once again. She technically wasn't a part of the relay line or any of the officers in charge of the march, but as a member of the famed Crimson Elite, she had authority in any situation she wished to. Nearly an hour later, their third flare fell out of the sky and left its people in darkness yet again. Before the relay troop could request for a replacement be fired, a deafening crack thundered throughout the mountain valley, shaking Riven and others nearby it to the core. Riven hoped desperately that this was simply replacement flare being fired ahead of the order, but she knew that was a possibility far from reality. This suspicion was confirmed when scores of screams and additional ear-splitting cracks rang out from a fair distance behind her, drawing her attention to the core of army. What awaited her was a horrid sight. Unfamiliar spells were being cast across the valley at the rock face above the army, causing chunks of rock to dislodge and fall, crushing all unfortunate enough to be below them.

It did not take long for panic to ensue amidst the troops, men began pushing and shoving each other to escape the reach of the descending death. There was, however, nowhere to run. Over the course of only a few seconds, the spells spread and were being cast above the rear and front of the army. Riven herself nearly succumbed to an early death, but she managed to shield herself with the enchantment from her rune blade. Following a swell of forward motion that came from the middle of the army, Riven and the others near her were forced to advance. Without another flare in the sky, their vision was extremely limited, but she would rather walk an uncertain path than submit to certain death by being trampled.

Riven followed suit in a panicked jog, a drop in a sea of frenzied soldiers. Not being in the very front had its perks, like being able to see where the ground is by following the man in front of you. She could hear a few people falling into the ravine below. She recalled not being sure if one could survive the fall that would ultimately end in the small river that forged this pass. It was sure to break a few bones at the very least, but perhaps if one did enough to slow their wild tumble downward, they would live. The important part, however, was to remain conscious. Survival meant nothing if you ended up unconscious and face-down in a body of water.

An unexpected collision between Riven's face and another person's back alerted her that the men in front of her had stopped fleeing and come to a complete halt. She grabbed a man's shoulder and forced him to face her. "What's going on!? Why did you stop?"

"I don't know! I think there's something up there."

Riven's eyebrows furrowed in frustration as her grip on her rune blade tightened. Only a moment passed before a soldier just a few rows ahead drew his blade and shouted the last sentence Riven wanted to hear. "It's the Ionians! Ionian forces ahead!"

There really was no way out. This march was the one moment Noxus would be sticking its neck out, and the Ionians brought the guillotine down without hesitation, even after suffering defeat after defeat in Shon-Xan. The spirit of Ionia was as unbreakable as Riven had heard. At this rate, the Ionian army would mow through them with only a fraction of the resistance they would face if the Noxians had been prepared. Recognizing just how critical this juncture was to the future success of the Ionian campaign, Riven turned to a soldier behind her and pulled him to her level by his breastplate. "Listen to me," she began, "I need you to make absolutely certain that General Du Couteau knows that we've been cut off by Ionian troops and are being overwhelmed. I don't care how you get that information to him, just DO IT." With that, she tossed the man backwards and he scrambled into the mob of men behind him, getting as far as he could and shouting Riven's message so that someone further down could relay it. Riven herself moved in the opposite direction, weaving her way through the formation in front of her so that she could reach the front lines of the battle and hopefully turn the tide.

Reaching the battle lines took far less time than expected, which could only mean one thing: the Noxians were being slaughtered. Riven charged at the first Ionian she saw, cleaving him in half through his armor with a horizontal swing, shocking those immediately next to him long enough for Riven to do away with them as well. Even though the Noxians were penned in, it meant that Riven only had to worry about enemies being in front of her, and that she would only have to fight a few Ionians at a time, regardless of how many their army numbered. Ionians died with every swing of Riven's empowered sword. Sometimes it was only one, others she would take two or even three lives with her fell sweeps. Riven killed again and again and again, but no visible progress was being made. She couldn't tell who was winning at all. On both sides of the fight, as soon as one soldier would die, another would come forth and take his place at the front. It was an endless cycle of carnage with no end in sight. Despite this, no matter how many came to face her, none were a match for Riven. She had killed so many that the Ionians were throwing the corpses of their own soldiers into the gorge so that they could continue fighting.

Riven knew that Noxus wouldn't win the war of attrition. It was likely that falling boulders had completely blocked the mountain pass in certain spots and would have to be cleared before anyone behind them could reinforce the front lines. In addition to that, there were sorcerers lining the ridge opposite the ravine that were picking Noxians off, and if they weren't dealt with, they would all die before managing to clear the rubble in their way. For Riven, the only way out was through the Ionians in front of her, but she knew she didn't have the energy to fight them all. No matter how good she was, she would get tired enough to be bested, and her body would be cast to the river like all the rest of them. She was doomed. Unless Marcus could come up with something miraculous, this would be her grave. It wasn't impossible. All he really had to do was find a way to deal with the sorcerers, and the day could be won. It would be hard fought and many Noxians would die, he could get them through this.

Having acknowledged that her fate was now out of her hands, Riven did her best to keep her mind off of the possibility of dying and dedicated all of herself to the battle. Seconds and minutes blurred together, and soon all sense of time was lost to her. She had fed countless bodies to the gulch, and yet countless adversaries stood before her still. How many of her Noxian brethren had lasted as long as she had? Were any of the troops behind her even still alive? She didn't know, and she wouldn't try to find out until every last Ionian she could see had fallen. Some indiscernible amount of time later, a voice reached her through the sounds of carnage that surrounded her and it brought a harrowing message.

"The main force has retreated! We're being left here!"

Riven's heart sunk. She was being abandoned. General Du Couteau, the man she had looked up to for her entire military career was tossing her aside. How could this be? What had she done to deserve this?

In her stupor, she had left her guard open, and an Ionian soldier, apparently too afraid to challenge her with a weapon given what she had already done, grappled her and threw himself into the ravine, taking her with him. Everything moved incredibly slowly from her perspective, in fact, she didn't even realize she was going over the edge. It was only when she first impacted the coarse, steep grade of the rock below that sanity returned to her. She quickly released her blade and gripped the back of her head so that he shoulders shielded the sides of her head from direct impact. She rolled and tumbled for what seemed like an eternity in her mind, until eventually crashing into a much softer surface than she imagined.

Once she was doubly sure she had stopped falling, she released her grip on her head and looked around, becoming nauseas at the realization that a mangled body had been what had cushioned her fall. The world around her was spinning; her dizziness an expected result of her fall. It was a disorienting mess, but one thought quickly stabilized her: she couldn't put any weight on her right hand. She brought it into her line of sight and tried to close it, but some unseen force prevented her from doing so. There was really only one conclusion: it was quite severely broken. It was strange, she couldn't really feel it; she couldn't really feel _anything_. Not good.

Riven looked around to see if her attacker was still a threat. All she could see were limp, lifeless bodies, casualties of the conflict above. Whether unconscious or dead, he wasn't going to be doing anything anytime soon. She watched in silence as a few additional Noxian bodies took the thirty foot plunge into the river. It was likely that with her gone, their morale was broken. They were already exhausted from the day's march. Being abandoned by their general and watching a Crimson Elite die would crush any Noxian's spirits. It had been a matter of time until they died since Marcus called for retreat, but now it was a matter of much less time. There was no way to get back up to them from what she could tell, and even if she could, she would only be getting herself killed. If she wanted to live, she would have to get clear of this battle area before the remaining Noxians were completely wiped out.

Once they were, the Ionians would start sweeping the area for survivors and information, and that was something she needed to avoid at all costs.

Rising to her feet, Riven tore off her helmet and began trudging through the wayward bodies and flowing water, her blade dragging behind her in her left hand. She was incredibly thankful that her legs still worked, the problem was finding out where she should have them take her. She could move to the Noxian side and backtrack until she rejoined the main army, but it was likely she would be spotted by a sorcerer and killed before she reached them. The only alternative was to go toward the Ionian side, strip herself of any Noxian insignias, and pray they didn't recognize her. It was still incredibly dark, so as long as she didn't trip and die, she could plausibly sneak past the Ionian army. Seeing as the latter was the only option that offered a chance at success, she turned her back to her comrades walked forth, wishing them all a quick and humane death.

Some time later, another flare made its way into the sky, illuminating the valley one last time. Riven didn't understand the purpose of this flare, but she continued on nonetheless. A minute or so later, some ballistic explosion sounded from a great ways away, likely only audible to Riven due to the acoustic nature of the valley. With a squint of the eyes and a bit of extra concentration, Riven could see a cloud of green gas spreading in the distance. From the look of it, the cloud would come to consume the entire pass. There was only one thing that this could be: a stroke by General Du Couteau. He wouldn't allow his being routed to go unanswered. Using the remaining Noxians as a lure to keep the Ionians in the pass, he had Singed activate his war machines, spreading poison to wipe out the Ionian army and cripple the resistance in this region. Of course, the hundreds Noxian soldiers left behind would also succumb to a cruel death at the hands of Singed's weapons, but they would have died either way.

Riven began scrambling away from the cloud, the flare's light allowing for greater speed than the dark. How ironic that the tool used to locate the Ionian army and sentence hundreds to death would also be the tool that would deliver her from this nightmare. She didn't know how long she had been running, for the endeavor of outrunning the gaseous death that followed had occupied all of her faculties. She didn't even know when she had started crying. She didn't know how many tears had rolled off of her cheeks or dried on her skin. All she knew was that she had been betrayed. She and all those who stood beside her had been betrayed. The brave men and women that fought for the honor of Noxus even when staring death in the face had been betrayed, cast aside by those they revered. Where was the Noxian respect for strength in this cowardly act? Where was the honor that supposedly justified the countless horrors that occurred in the name of the empire? If it existed at all, where was it to be found if not in the empire's finest generals? He should have fought. He _could_ have fought. Noxian honor _demanded_ that he fight.

No, there was no Noxian honor, at least, not within the higher ranks. The true Noxian honor lied with not he people who preached strife and conflict to achieve strength, but the people who _did_ struggle and claw at life to stay ahead. True Noxian honor lied not with the lords of famous houses who simply inherited the accomplishments of ancestors long dead, it lay with the peasants in the slums doing all in their power to keep their children fed. It lay not with the famed general, but the common soldier that bled and killed to bring him glory. True Noxian honor lay with people like Talon, a man who disavowed its very existence, who rose out of a veritable hell by embracing the only thing he truly knew how to do and honing it to the point of mastery. True Noxian honor was not a false gem manufactured in the luxury of the aristocracy that preached it so, it was a genuine diamond formed from the coal of Noxus that polished itself against hardship and adversity. Noxus had lost its way, and she was finished spilling blood in the name of such hypocrisy.

Many hours passed before Riven could convince herself she was free from the gas. She didn't know how many people had survived, if any, but she was safe now. Eventually, she had left the pass behind her, and she had left her allegiance to the current Noxus with it. With the city of Tuula in her sight, Riven dashed her blade against the rocks, shattering it in a display of defiance. She didn't know what she would do from now on, but she was done bringing war to this place, and as such, she had no need for a weapon.

It was strange to abandon a path she had been convinced she would follow for the rest of her life. Her life was suddenly open to endless possibilities. It would take quite a bit of time to put her life back in perspective, but as long a she stayed ahead of the Noxian advance, she had plenty of it. The next chapter of her life had begun.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: We're finally getting to the point in the story in which everyone is more or less in the same place. I'm trying to get used to longer chapters so I can accommodate parts of the story that will involve a larger amount of cast being in a single chapter. I hope it's not too off putting. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

"So let me get this straight," King Jarvan III began, "you _knew_ this whole time? You should have killed him and thrown his lifeless body at my feet the moment you found out! Why didn't you say anything!?"

Quinn winced at the image the king had put in her head. Demacia was a nation of ideals and preached peace, but it held not even a shred of mercy for its enemies. She had assumed something like this would happen, and she had made sure resolve herself to face the consequences of her choice before she let him walk out that door. Still, mental preparation can only do so much. She was facing charges of treason, punishable by death. She didn't know whether or not her actions were truly worth it, but that didn't matter now. What's done is done, and regrets wouldn't change anything.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" King Jarvan III asked.

"I do not, My King," she answered. "The findings in Lady Crownguard's report are, to the best of my knowledge, accurate. The man recently invited to Demacia City under the alias Bertrand Raschallion is actually the Noxian assassin commonly known as Talon. It is also true that I became aware of this before his departure last week."

"No, you didn't just 'become aware of the information'; you invited him into your _home_!" the king yelled, his voice booming throughout the throne room,a rather unnecessary display of authority considering the only people there were the king himself and Luxanna Crownguard, her close friend. "You knew he was one of the most dangerous enemies Demacia has ever faced, you knew he was here to prevent Demacia from interfering with Noxus's invasion of Ionia, and you knew that this man could very well take the lives of any one of us standing here if you let him go, and yet, you did nothing."

"I-I didn't know about the invasion; he didn't say anything about that!" Quinn protested. Her neck was essentially already in the noose, she may as well make sure she hung for the right reasons.

"She's probably right, your majesty," Luxanna said. Quinn was glad to have Lux back up her statement; she was the reason she was facing trial in the first place. The information that revealed Ambassador Raschallion's true identity was buried within the findings of her most recent infiltration into Noxus. The findings had been at Demacia's disposal for a few months now, but it was likely that someone as inconsequential as the ambassador was deemed not worth the time of looking into. It was only once news of the invasion reached Demacia that they thought to look into his conveniently timed arrival and uncovered his true identity. Exactly how they knew that Quinn knew was something that still escaped the ranger's knowledge, but she assumed that there were spies tailing them during their multiple outings during his stay.

"As far as we know," Luxanna continued, "Talon did not commit any malicious acts during his stay here. He may have neglected to inform us of the Noxian invasion, but that isn't necessarily the same thing as deceit. I would also argue that his presence had a negligible effect on our ability to respond to the Ionian invasion. Even if he hadn't come at all, we would have learned about it at the exact same time. That being said, it is unlikely he bothered dressing up and coming here simply for a free meal at the king's table. His true motives elude us yet."

"Do you happen to have any leads regarding that, Lady Crownguard?" the king asked.

Lux flipped through the papers she had available to her, skimming through them to see if she could find anything that would betray the assassin's reason for coming to Demacia City. "Uhh, no, nothing concrete."

"Why don't you take a guess, just based on what we _do_ know," the king insisted. "I don't care how absurd it sounds, anything will do."

"Well, the only explanation that could be substantiated at this point is that he came to see Quinn. You did say he personally asked after her when he first arrived, didn't you, Your Highness?"

The king's eyes narrowed in skepticism of this claim, but he did indeed remember that Talon had requested Quinn by name. Perhaps this explanation should be lent more credence than he had initially thought. "Quinn, do you have any comments on this? Would you say that coming to visit you would be a sufficient motive to fit Talon's actions?"

Quinn's gaze wandered around the throne room as she tried to answer the question for herself. "It doesn't _necessarily_ seem worth his time to come all the way here just to say 'hi'. But, the circumstances were a bit more complex than that…"

"Enlighten us," the king demanded.

"After the dinner party, he confronted me outside of the palace."

"Was it revenge for your fight in the borderlands?" Lux asked.

"No, it was nothing like that," Quinn answered. "He had a question for me. He wanted to know if the name 'Caleb' meant anything to me."

Surprise made itself apparent on Luxanna's face. It came as no surprise to anyone that she had _thoroughly_ familiarized herself with Quinn's background before this trial. That being the case, Luxanna knew exactly what significance that name held to her.

"Caleb being your deceased twin brother," Lux noted aloud.

"Yes, but he's not deceased," Quinn corrected. "Caleb is still very much alive."

"How do you mean? What does this have to do with that murderer?" King Jarvan III asked.

"The boy I once called my brother is now the man we all call Talon. Fate has seen fit to turn my greatest friend into my fiercest enemy."

Luxanna and the king fell silent as they processed this new information. This was quickly proving to be a far more nuanced situation than either of them had suspected. A few moments passed in oppressive silence before Luxanna made a suggestion.

"My Liege," she began, "perhaps we should reevaluate our position here?"

"Elaborate," King Jarvan III commanded.

"Of course. I'm suggesting that we conduct the remainder of our investigation in a more… amicable manner. As grave a crime as treason is, Quinn has been nothing but outstanding since becoming a Demacian Ranger. Perhaps she didn't report the ambassador's true identity because she saw an opportunity to get close to him and learn vital information." This was just like Lux. If Quinn played along, she might end up having a reasonable excuse for her crimes. She would, of course, be lying through her teeth, but this was the gallows she was facing…

"Is this true, Quinn?" the king asked. "Did you use the opportunity to learn more about the fiend?"

"Well, I did learn quite a bit about him, but I'd like to make it clear that I did so because I was curious about my brother, not because I wanted to take advantage of our relation as siblings to bring him his demise."

"Fair enough," the king said, "but you _did_ learn about him."

"…And I'm willing to share everything I know. I can tell you who he is, how he lived, how he learned to kill… I can give you his entire life story… None of it will make him easier to take down."

There was a shift in the air around the Demacian King. He seemed as though he had transitioned from scolding disobedient children to conversing with reasonable adults. "Then speak. I'm curious to see if I will come to hold the same respect for the man that you seem to."

For the next hour, Quinn recounted Talon's story as well as she could remember, the king's interest in the tale increasing with every word.

* * *

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you sir, but you have no summons, and no one within the guard has been told to expect your arrival."

Talon stared the guard down before realizing the futility of his insistence. It was true that he did not have permission to enter the main tower of the Immortal Bastion, and giving this guard grief for doing his job would ultimately prove to be a waste of both of their time.

Talon turned away from the guard and walked a fair distance away from him, searching for a decent view of the structure. Upon reflection, it seemed to be the case that he wasn't allowed into a large majority of the places he had been in his line of work, and the ability to circumvent that issue was part of his primary skill set. The main tower was arguably the most intimidating structure in the entire empire. Its height dwarfed some mountains and its architectural complexity could not yet be replicated by modern technology. Thanks to the vast amount of knowledge that could be found within the Du Couteau manor's library, Talon knew that the Immortal Bastion was not built by Noxus, but instead found. This tower was well older than the empire, and was likely constructed with the aid of ancient magics. Luckily, whatever elder power that created this was not aware that there would be a street urchin dumb enough to try to climb it, and had left a somewhat difficult, but very doable, climb in Talon's path. After finding a fairly secluded entry point, the assassin broke into a brisk jog and made his first move up the colossal obstacle that lay before him.

* * *

Jericho Swain sat in his throne, his mutated raven Beatrice perched upon his shoulder as always. As much as he valued the Black Rose's newfound proactive approach to influencing government affairs, LeBlanc's visits were becoming far too frequent for his tastes, especially during a time of war. Marcus's most recent report indicated the loss of nearly a third of the vanguard force in a single battle; if that was true, then the war needed far more attention that domestic affairs. Noxus was more than capable of surviving without being babysat. Each city had a governing lord that was more than familiar with how their own land worked, and the Black Rose would act as necessary to maintain Noxus's strength with or without his approval. Surely LeBlanc understood this. Then why… _why_ … was she in his throne room droning on about some petty lord's gala? Why was she even here? This behavior was incredibly unusual for her, new Leblanc or no.

A sudden break in the sorceress's constant stream of trivial nonsense brought Jericho's attention back to the conversation. Had she asked him a question? He sincerely hoped she hadn't asked him a question.

"Now, Jericho," the woman began, playfully scolding the High Commander, "you didn't tell me you had invited other guests. This was supposed to be a private meeting."

Beatrice cawed in affirmation of LeBlanc's accusation; she too sensed another presence. "What are you talking about?" Swain asked.

"Oh, you'll see," LeBlanc answered. The matron of the Black Rose dusted off her left shoulder with a cocky grin spread across her face. Within seconds, a hooded figure appeared behind the sorceress, right hand rested on her left shoulder.

Jericho shot out off of his throne in preparation to do battle, his cane slamming into the alabaster floor. LeBlanc raised her right hand to signal Swain to calm himself. Upon seeing that he had complied, LeBlanc spoke up.

"You know, Talon, it is awfully rude to just teleport into people's private meetings like that. If I were in a less forgiving mood, you might have dire consequences to pay."

Jericho narrowed his eyes at the figure behind LeBlanc to get a better look at him. His cloak was a faded blue, adorned with numerous blades hanging off of the back via long leather straps: a truly absurd outfit. It was indeed General Du Couteau's sewer-rat protégé.

"You have my sincerest apologies, Madame LeBlanc; I had no way of knowing you were present," Talon said with an exaggerated bow. He stepped in front of the sorceress to speak directly to Swain. "Though I have to say, it would have been much easier if the guards allowed me through the front gate."

Jericho sneered as he returned to his throne, utterly dismayed that he used so much energy over such a trifling matter. "How did you even get in here?" he asked.

"I blinked."

"From where? I thought you weren't allowed inside?"

The assassin motioned to the ledge that jutted out from the base of a nearby window that began from the floor and stretched nearly to the ceiling, one of many that lined both walls of the throne room. "I wouldn't have to climb if you just let me in."

Jericho sighed at the youthful recklessness that seemed to possess the young man before him. "You do not answer to me, boy; you have made that abundantly clear. What business could you possibly have at the Immortal Bastion if you are naught but House Du Couteau's lapdog?"

"I have come to see if I am needed," Talon responded. "I don't know much about the situation in Ionia. I thought you might have orders that couldn't wait until I got there. So I'm here, just in case."

"Hmm… In that regard, I suppose you did well," Swain noted. "There is one matter that requires the attention of someone of your… caliber, though I wouldn't exactly call it a pressing issue. First, I would have your report. Does Demacia know of the invasion?"

"I left before the news reached them, but by now, it would be wise to assume they are aware. I would expect full mobilization of the Demacian army within four days."

"I thought you were instructed to smooth over the news of the invasion in Demacia," LeBlanc said. "How in the world did you manage that if you left before they even found out?"

"My instructions were to kill Zelos, and I think you will find he is very much dead," Talon answered. "Anything beyond that was understood to be nothing more than a suggestion. Besides, I was compromised. I doubt I will be able to return to Demacia under that alias ever again."

"Goodness, defiant _and_ incompetent," LeBlanc noted. "Whatever will we do with you?"

It was not often that Talon had to exercise his powers of restraint, but this LeBlanc woman seemed to know exactly how to bring him to the edge.

"Enough, LeBlanc," Jericho insisted, "He has done his duty and returned to us alive, I fail to see any incompetence in that. I'm sure you are eager to be quit of this place, so I will give you your assignment. You may recall escorting a Shuriman mage to Noxus Prime some time ago."

"Taliyah?" Talon asked.

"Yes, Taliyah," Swain confirmed, "She is reported to have rebelled against her commander and taken refuge in Ionia. We suspect her to be behind the disappearance of a small platoon near a village at the base of Tevasa Mountain. Your mission is to locate and neutralize her, be that peacefully returning her to Noxus or driving a blade through her skull."

"Understood," Talon acknowledged. "I'll depart at once."

"Before that, you should be informed of our progress in Ionia; you will need to know which provinces you can move freely through and which will require more subtle means to traverse. Shon-Xan in the South-East is the only province completely within our control. General Du Couteau's vanguard army if currently fighting to take the province of Zhyun, but resistance has been fierce. He's already lost a third of his army to the Ionians there, including your comrade within the Crimson Elite: Riven."

"What!? How!?"

"She and a fair portion of the vanguard army were cut off from the main force and ambushed by Ionian soldiers. General Du Couteau decided to sacrifice his men to bring down the enemy forces around them with a large scale chemical attack. I must admit, it is a most inconvenient loss."

A foul aura washed over Talon as he finally registered what he'd been told. Riven was dead, but she hadn't been felled by a greater warrior, she had been killed by her own commander. This was absolutely ridiculous. What kind of empire casts aside the lives of its own loyal soldiers like that? He wanted to speak out, but he remained silently in place, trying desperately to find a justification for his friend's death, but he could find none.

"You said it was a chemical attack, is there any chance there are survivors?" Talon asked.

"It is extremely unlikely," Swain replied. "It is my understanding that the fallen troops were completely trapped between the terrain of the area and Ionian forces. It would be best to put this matter behind you and focus on your new target; immersing yourself in a new assignment should take your mind off of things."

Talon hated to admit it, but he was right. There was nothing to be gained from moping about in denial. He was above that. He knew he was above it, but why then did he hurt so much? They hadn't known each other for very long at all, and still the weight of her loss pulled his spirits into a thick black abyss.

Little by little, Talon coaxed himself into a fuming rage. She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve to go like that. Why did this meaningless war have to take one of the only people he held dear to him? Hadn't Noxus already taken enough from him? His innocence, his childhood, his freedom, Kavyn, none of them satisfied this accursed land, and now it had taken Riven, too. His father had killed Riven, and Noxus had killed everything else. _Their_ Noxus… the Noxus of Jericho Swain and LeBlanc's Black Rose… _that_ Noxus had taken everything from him.

"Did you care for her?" LeBlanc asked, feigning a genuine interest. Talon didn't answer, but she was more than able to infer his feelings. "I thought you would be smarter than that, Talon. You should know better than anyone that everything you try to hold onto will end up slipping through your fingers so long as you live this life. Be it a casualty of war or a hostage used against you, such connections do nothing for you. They will only serve to whittle away your constitution, just like this."

Talon knew she was right, he had told himself the very same thing his entire life. Ever since he slew Kavyn, he shut everyone out. He never knew who he would have to kill to see tomorrow, and it was best not to have any attachments to them when he sent them to the next life. But things were different now. Now he was safe, now he had a house to return to and a bed to sleep in. He was no longer vulnerable, nor where his companions defenseless. Was he to believe that his bonds with Marcus, Katarina, and Riven made him weak? Utter nonsense. The three of them brought him farther in this life than he ever imagined he could make it as a guttersnipe. Even his brief time with Quinn had solidified his past and afforded him a greater understanding of himself. No, he would not tolerate being preached to about his own life by some puffed up hag from a bygone era, no matter how important she thought she was.

"If you knew what was in your best interest, you would spend less time chasing skirts and more time honing your blade."

It took everything Talon had not to lash out LeBlanc at that very moment. He could tolerate brainless insults from just about anyone, no matter their station, but insult his skill… she may as well be mocking his very existence.

Talon turned to face LeBlanc, staring her dead in the eyes. "If you doubt my blade, perhaps you'd like to test its edge for yourself?"

LeBlanc instantly burst out in laughter, apparently finding humor in being challenged by someone she viewed as lower than her.

"Was that a threat?" She asked through her laughter, still baffled that such an absurd situation was truly taking place. "You had best remember your place, boy. I am the matron of the Black Rose; my words sway the very course of the Empire itself. I will not be disrespected by a street urchin with delusions of grandeur!" The sorceress slammed the base of her staff into the floor to emphasize her point.

Something about this situation just seemed so familiar. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he could swear he had experienced a similar argument before. The assassin continued to trade glares with LeBlanc for a brief second before it finally hit him. The tiara that sat atop LeBlanc's head was exactly the same as the one Evaine carried with her when she arranged his entry into Demacia. Was it magic, then? Talon reflected on this encounter to try to confirm his theory. Their mannerisms, their speech patterns, their arrogant smirks, all of them were identical. The characteristics shared by Evaine and LeBlanc locked into place like pieces of a puzzle, and Talon knew his hunch was correct.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the hostile expression that rode Talon's face was quickly replaced with his usual stoicism. He began confidently walking to toward the throne room's exit and called out to Swain. "Make sure you let the guards know I'm leaving; I'd prefer not to have to climb back down the tower." He stopped by the door, pausing for a moment to confirm that he wanted to continue with his planned course of action. He had to be right. Emilia LeBlanc was as old as Boram Darkwill, and even with the necromancy they were rumored to have been using to prolong their lives, it would certainly be plausible for her to have passed on. This would be far sweeter than sinking a blade into her flesh. "Oh, and congratulations on the promotion, Evaine."

Within seconds, numerous ethereal chains linked themselves to Talon's wrists and ankles, threatening to bind them in place should LeBlanc will it.

"High Commander," LeBlanc began, "Surely you're in agreement that we can't allow this man to live?"

Swain sunk into a more relaxed sitting position and pondered her statement for a brief second. "This is a conflict between the Black Rose and a private agent of House Du Couteau. I don't see how Noxus or its High Commander fit into that picture."

Talon did his best to hide the relief he felt upon hearing that. If Swain had decided to get involved, getting out of this alive would have been nigh impossible. Evaine on her own… he'd find a way to manage. Talon examined LeBlanc's face to try and get a read on whether or not she would continue her assault. The sorceress held her chains in place, still indecisive.

"I don't have all day, Evaine," Talon taunted.

"THAT'S IT!" Sent over the edge, LeBlanc initiated the second phase of her spell, but before it could complete, she felt the link break. The sorceress looked around the room to see where he could possibly have gone that was far enough to cancel her spell. To her surprise, he was not in the room at all. Perhaps he had fled…?

Talon hung from the ledge of one of the many windows that lined the throne room by his blade hand. Doing his best not to think about how long the fall would be if his hand slipped, Talon took his free hand and reached into his cloak. Waiting just inside the fabric were three oddly shaped blades. Talon readied the blades and internally praised his cleverness. His decision to blind back to the outside of the tower served many purposes. The first was to break free of LeBlanc's chains, which would have ended the confrontation then and there if fully activated. The second was to allow him time to tap into the enchantment of the three blades he now held. Talon had a general distaste for enchanted items, mostly based out of his general inability to use them, but these were different. He had sacrificed months preparing and placing an enchantment on each of them himself. Being as inept in the magical arts as he was, he had to resort to a simple enchantment… simple, but damn useful. The enchantment on these blades allowed them to return to him after being thrown a certain distance, making them far more diverse than a simple throwing knife. Talon felt the enchantments in the blades respond to his will after another few moments, and he prepared to make his move.

LeBlanc continued to scan her surroundings, refusing to believe that Talon would just leave after all of that talk. Eventually, a strange sight pulled her gaze to a nearby window, inviting her to look closer. She could see what looked like the tip of a rather large blade protruding up past the bottom of the window, and sticking out like a sore thumb. She quickly realized what it was, but by then it was too late. The blade had disappeared, and LeBlanc could only assume she was about to be attacked. She was right. Were it not for a reflexive distortion away from her previous position, she would have been impaled upon Talon's massive arm blade.

Talon was surprised the sorceress had the reaction time to avoid taking a hit in that instant, but he was prepared for that outcome. The assassin readied his enchanted blades and, in a well-practiced motion, threw the three of them simultaneously in LeBlanc's direction. Seeing an opening, LeBlanc reappeared at her original position, dodging the wave of projectiles entirely. Talon could see the fear in his own eyes reflected in the crystals of LeBlanc's staff, which was now mere inches away from his face. She had given him that moment and that moment alone to register his defeat. Refusing to give him any more time to act, the matron of the Black Rose unleashed a blast of pure arcane energy directly into Talon, sending him hurtling a fair distance until eventually tumbling into a nearby wall. His face burned as though he had dipped it in some kind of acid, but he was above letting pain interfere with combat. It was clear to him he had vastly underestimated Evaine, but he wasn't about to turn tail and run; he had come too far for that.

LeBlanc watched with a sadistic smile as Talon struggled back to his feet. It was amusing to her how the magically inept such as him thought they could compete on the same level as one such as her. If he refused to learn then it couldn't be helped. She would have to show him the error of his ways the same way one instills behaviors in a wild beast: pain. LeBlanc readied another casting of her ethereal chains, but something unexpected happened. The sorceress cried out in pain as three blades tore into her back from behind her, thoroughly disrupting her concentration and foiling her spell. She was far less accustomed to pain than her adversary, and as a result, was finding it difficult to concentrate through the pulsing agony that rippled through her body. The feeling of the warm streams of blood trickling down her back was enough to bring her to the edge of fainting.

Talon, finally to his feet, charged at Evaine, desperate to bring the fight to a close. Evaine caught a glimpse of her opponent's approaching form, and in an adrenaline fuelled moment of clarity, deployed the ace up her sleeve. Talon skidded to a halt as his opponent vanished into thin air. Before he could even begin to wonder where she had gone, two identical copies of the woman had appeared on either side of him. Seeing that both of the LeBlancs' staves were alight with magic and ready to discharge a spell, Talon moved forward with the only plan he could deem viable: the Shadow Assault. Unfortunately, he had no time, and he soon found himself bound by two different sets of chains. Even if he could blink, there was nowhere he could safely go that would manage to break the link. This was it.

A surge of magical energy lit every nerve in his body aflame as the spell entered its second phase. Talon would be writhing in violent spasms if he had not been robbed of his ability to move. Instead, he was stuck here, a puppet upon which LeBlanc could release all manner of arcane horrors. The two copies of Evaine steadily circled around to his front and reveled in the moment with matching grins.

"You know, being on the brink of death suits you," one LeBlanc began. "I'm glad I got to see your face twist with fear before I erase you from this world," the other continued. The two LeBlancs charged their staves one more time and simultaneously fired balls of energy, knocking Talon well out of her sigil and into the far wall, all over again.

Talon wasn't sure how far that blast would have sent him had his flight been uninterrupted, but if his impact against the stone wall was anything to go off of, he would say quite a bit further. The assassin fell to the ground, unsure of how much of his body was broken. Swain was looking at him as though he was already dead, and he could tell why. His vitality was all but gone from his body, and the LeBlancs' posture as they approached reeked of confidence. It was clear that this fight was decided in everyone's minds, but Talon didn't get where he was by playing to people's expectations. In what seemed like a panic-induced flailing, he confirmed the condition of his various limbs and body parts and prepared to make his last-ditch effort. He waited, allowing LeBlanc to settle into a stronger sense of security and mustering his remaining mana for his yet unused Shadow Assault. This was 'do or die'; if he took even one more spell during this, he would most likely perish. Talon took a deep breath to calm himself and blinked. The instant he verified that he was in between the LeBlancs like he intended, he sent out his blades and shrouded himself in darkness. Both were taken aback by the attack, but both used their teleportation spells to escape with minimal damage. It was unfortunate, but ultimately salvageable. He looked at both of their positions and found that one of them had unwittingly placed herself dreadfully close to one of the man-sized windows that lined the walls of the throne room. Under the veil of stealth, Talon made his way to her and delivered a devastating kick to her hips, sending her through the window. He had lost his stealth, but he had secured the advantage he needed; the false LeBlanc had disappeared amid its fall, leaving Talon alone with the real thing. He didn't need to see her to know he was in her sights, so he entered a ready stance and blinked once more, dodging an incoming magical projectile.

LeBlanc read his body language well, and assuming he was about to blink to her, reverted to the original point of her distortion… right into Talon's hands. Before she could even realize what had happened, she was disarmed and thrown to the ground; the cold of one of Talon's steel sabatons pressing against her face. She rolled onto her side to relieve some of the strain on her neck, wincing as he increased the pressure on her head as she moved. In the moment of silence and adrenaline crashes that followed, she was able to gain a hold on what had led up to this point. Instead of blinking to where she was standing, Talon must have blinked to the place he remembered her teleporting from, predicting she would return there should he make a move. It was a fifty-fifty gamble, but it had paid off tremendously for him.

Talon reached down to and began removing the enchanted blades that were imbedded in LeBlanc's back, making a point to wiggle each one before pulling them out. Once he was done, he looked at LeBlanc's face, his gaze unreturned. Most of his body felt like it was on fire and he was likely only a couple minutes away from losing consciousness, but he would not get any of that get in the way of this moment.

"You were so talkative before, I was expecting you to say something from down there," he said. She persisted in her silence, clearly out of spite for him. "Come on then, speak up!" he commanded. "I want to hear your voice." Still he received nothing. "Alright then," he began, removing his foot from her face, "I'll have to make you speak." The assassin pulled back his leg and struck her abdomen with his sabaton repeatedly, each earning a progressively louder grunt of pain from the sorceress. The sheer brutality of it was something that was a great deal out of character for him, but he needed to ensure she didn't have the strength to continue fighting. The feeling reminded him of the first few times he took a life. He didn't know how to end someone swiftly back then, and his violent encounters would routinely end with him repeatedly stabbing his victims in non-vital areas, desperately hoping that they would just stop screaming. They were unpleasant memories that he had hoped not to return to, so he decided to end this encounter quickly.

Eventually, one of his kicks shook Evaine enough for her to demand that he stop. "Please, stop," she pleaded the blood loss finally sapping her strength away from her. "Just stop."

"Very good," Talon said as he once again pressed her face into the ground with his foot. "With that out of the way, I only have one thing to say to you before you run." It was difficult to tell if he had her attention through her dazed expression, but he continued nonetheless. "In Noxus, the strong rule the weak, regardless of whatever shitty club you're in. You should remember that the next time you decide to fuck with me."

With that, Talon released the sorceress and kicked her crystal staff to her. He readied himself for retaliation, but in truth, there wasn't much left he could do if she decided to finish him. Both Swain and Talon watched on as LeBlanc used her remaining strength to open a distortion sigil for herself and vanish. Talon sighed a breath of relief and relaxed his posture; it was over.

"Well fought," Swain noted in the aftermath of the battle. "I haven't seen such a… mobile conflict in quite some time."

Talon would have thanked the man, but his pride as a DuCouteau, or perhaps just as Katarina's brother, didn't allow him to appreciate anything Jericho Swain did.

"Come here, boy," he ordered. The assassin complied and limped to the throne, eager to be done with his time at the Immortal Bastion as soon as possible. Once he was within reach, Swain reached out his hand and placed it on Talon's forehead, channeling magic through the young man's body.

Talon could feel himself being rejuvenated as the magic coursed through him. "A healing spell?" Talon asked. "Why?"

"Necromancy, technically," Swain corrected. "This is but one of the many results of my studies into Boram Darkwill's life-prolonging rituals. As for why, I thought I was abundantly clear about that; I need you to neutralize the Shuriman. I don't have the patience for you to spend weeks in bed recovering while she runs amok in Ionia."

"I see," Talon responded as the healing spell came to an end. "I'll be on my way as soon as I pick these up," he said as he approached the nearest of his dispersed blades.

* * *

Jarvan III leaned back into his throne, contemplating the story of the assassin named Talon. He was a far different character than he had imagined, but that did not make him any less dangerous to Demacian goals or lives than he was before. Even so, while not entirely excusable, he found Quinn's sympathy for the man to be understandable. He could not imagine what one must have to go through for their own life to forge them into one of the most notorious killers in Runeterra. In that way, he too was a victim of Noxus's foul ways. He turned to Luxanna, who was silently awaiting the king's ruling on the matter of Quinn's involvement with Talon.

"Lady Crownguard," he called, "is it not true that General Marcus Du Couteau currently leads Noxus's forces in Ionia?"

"From what our sources gather, yes," Lux replied.

"And would it be safe to assume, Lady Crownguard, that as a result, Talon will likely be heavily active in the area so long as that remains so?"

"Assuming he's there at all, yes, I believe so."

"Very well," Jarvan III concluded, "Quinn, as punishment for your crimes, you will be charged with tracking Talon's movements in Ionia to the best of your ability, and more importantly, preventing his interference with Demacia's operations once our forces reach Ionia. Am I understood?"

"Yes, your highness," Quinn responded.

"Excellent. You leave immediately. I expect to be receiving reports on the man well before my army reaches the archipelago."

"I understand," Quinn confirmed. A wave of relief washed away her anxiety. She had made it.


	11. Chapter 11

Some time ago, Talon told Riven he would consider moving to Ionia if he was not bound to House Du Couteau, and seeing it in person for the first time in over a year certainly wasn't changing his mind. Even in times of war, Talon found Ionia to be a place of unparalleled beauty. Whether it was the unchecked reign of the natural flora, or the serene disposition of a majority of its inhabitants, something about it was incredibly appealing to him. Taken at face value, it was something of a contradiction for a 'city boy' like him, but as much as he had come to see the sewers and busy streets as home, the majority of the feelings those places dredged up were best forgotten. There was little more that Talon wanted than to leave everything behind him and live in peace and solitude. Perhaps, if the peaceful life rung too hollow for a man whose existence revolved around struggle and killing, he would pack his bags and search for the legendary Kinkou monastery. That place, if it truly existed, was said to train masters of stealth and combat with skill far greater than would be considered humanly possible. Alas, retirement was not his purpose here; he had a job to do.

If anyone wanted to disappear, Ionia was definitely the place to do it. That being said, tracking down Taliyah would be difficult. Any Shuriman nomad trying to avoid the ever-raging wars between bandit clans was smart enough to know not to stay in the same place for too long. What further reinforced Talon's doubts of her presence there was that Tevasa Mountain lied just within the borders of western Shon-Xan, an area under Noxian control. Even if a platoon hadn't gone missing, staying there for too long would be beyond foolish. Unfortunately, the village at the base of Tevasa Mountain was his only lead; whether she was there or not, it had to be the first step of his search.

Talon had learned from a regional commander that there were actually two disappearances at Tevasa Mountain. The first was a scouting unit of about seven men who were sent to survey the area ahead of General Du Couteau's march. Apparently, the general had deemed the mountain "not of critical importance" and let the issue slide, only sparing thirty or so soldiers to investigate once the region was secure. The disappearance of this second party was what caught the eye of Swain. His concern was well founded. It would definitely take someone similar in power to Taliyah to fight off a platoon of Noxian soldiers. Shuriman stone weaver or no, there was a presence near the mountain that warranted investigation.

Talon walked along the sole path that could be found near the base of the mountain, only minutes away from the village by his own metrics. He actively battled his own nerves with every step. If it yet remained, any force that could defeat thirty soldiers was a force he may not be able to contend with on even ground. He would have to approach this carefully. Eventually, his advance slowed to a halt. There were signs of battle hidden deep within his surroundings. Erratic footprints and blots of dried blood marred the dirt path ahead of him. The bark of nearby trees was scarred by what Talon guessed to be swords that had missed their mark. Everything was there… everything but the bodies. For all the clear indication of violent struggle around him, there was not a single body to be found, Noxian or otherwise. Perhaps the villagers had hidden away the bodies to prevent suspicion, or perhaps whatever they fought simply left nothing in its wake. Either way, it was incredibly inconvenient. If he could identify the cause of death for just one corpse, he could put together a serviceable image of what he was dealing with.

Talon took a deep breath in an attempt to regain his bearings and quell the uneasiness that now plagued him. Upon centering himself, he ran through all of the information he had available to him in an effort to glean everything that could be assumed of his current situation. First was that whatever was causing so much trouble for the Noxians preferred to keep itself and its fallen foes hidden. The reasoning behind this and the methods through which it was accomplished were both unclear. Second was that the force that defeated the Noxian platoon did not use large-scale magical abilities. While the use of magic itself could not be ruled out, destructive spells that affected large areas would have left damage and scoring on the nearby flora, and no such thing was present at the battle site. The third and most unsettling assumption that could be made about the situation was that Talon had already been detected by the force responsible for the platoon's disappearance. If this presence had the time to formulate an attack strategy and implement it this far along the road, it meant that it had become aware of the platoon, and likely Talon as well, much earlier. With this possibility in mind, Talon reached out with his senses, trying to detect signs that someone or something was watching him.

* * *

This human was different.

His movements were relaxed and lazy, yet measured and self-assured. His clothes and weapons were exotic and odd, but more odd than those, was the fact that he was alone. Even after the loss of all the people who came before him, he chose to come alone. Ahri didn't know what to make of it. He was either incredibly confident, outright stupid, or here on business completely unrelated to Noxus altogether. Whatever the answer, Ahri had not seen enough to make a judgment.

She watched as he investigated her little hunting ground and found clues she thought no human could detect. In her eyes, he looked like the hunters that she had seen in the village when they tracked prey through the woods, but he was no hunter. She had seen creatures like him before, back in the time she walked the world as a mere fox. The men who had come before him were killers and fiends, come to bring terror to innocents with no just cause; this man… this man was worse. He was a predator.

Even when tales of the Golden Demon were common on the villagers' lips, she didn't believe his kind could truly exist among the ranks of humanity. Perhaps that was a result of her own naiveté. She had seen the savagery of human wars and she knew the petty causes under which they could start. Ahri knew all of this, and yet, she did not understand. What could drive someone to become so violent if they had seen the same horrors that she had and felt the same feelings she felt? How could they persist in their ways if they knew how much pain their actions wrought? Ahri silently damned her lack of understanding of humans. If only she could work up the courage to just talk to one of them…

"You there, show yourself," the man called.

Ahri's ears shot upward and a sudden flow of adrenaline shocked her body. What should she do? Would this man try to kill her like the others? Did she need to stop him to protect the villagers? She didn't know yet. She didn't know how to approach this man at all. Perhaps she could speak to him? He had not shown any signs of violent intent yet; maybe he could be reasoned with. That would mean, though, that she would have to show herself, to a _human_. Was she ready for that? This was a step she had refused to take for months now.

"I said show yourself. I know you're there."

The man's voice was growing impatient. If she waited much longer, the chance for her to communicate peacefully with him might disappear. Ahri assured herself that she could handle the situation if it went wrong. She had to do this.

(LINE BREAK)

Talon kept his eyes fixed on the brush he suspected his stalker hid behind, waiting for a sign of its intent. Eventually, a feminine form emerged and approached him, he posture cautious and defensive. She was unlike anything he had ever seen. It was a woman… most likely. She certainly seemed human… the majority of her anyway. She had the body of a normal human woman, and was clothed in Ionian style garb, but there were certain oddities about her that confused him beyond belief. Two fox ears protruded from the top of her head, their black fur matching the raven hair that surrounded them. Her yellow eyes were almost feline in appearance, and gave her an inhuman aura. Her cheeks bore markings reminiscent of whiskers, though they might have simply been tattoos. Finally, and also most obviously, a long, furry white tail extended from her lower back and waved in the air behind her. Talon was at a loss for words.

"Why are you here?" the woman asked. He mentally noted that her voice was indistinguishable from that of a human. At the very least, she didn't seem hostile. Talon was not at all fond of the idea of fighting whatever had killed all of those men, so he was more than open to trying to resolve the issue without the use of violence.

"I'm looking for someone," he replied. "I suspect she may have been the one to kill the Noxian soldiers that were sent here."

"So you _are_ Noxian," Ahri confirmed, the hostility in her animal eyes increasing as she did so. "The men that came here would have done harm to innocent people. They deserved death. You will meet the same fate if you don't leave in peace."

Despite the lack of reaction he gave to that threat, he took it quite seriously. "Calm down. I already told you, I'm here looking for someone. No part of that assignment entails harming civilians."

The fox woman took that statement with a grain of salt, unsure if someone so thoroughly armed could truly be on a non-violent mission. "Are you looking for me, then?" she asked. "I'm the one who killed those men. Am I your target, Noxian?"

"No," Talon replied, "you are not. However, I'd like to search the nearby village just to be certain. For all I know, you could be defending her."

"I won't let you do that," Ahri insisted. She walked out onto the road and stopped, obstructing Talon's path to the village.

"And why is that?" Talon asked. "I already told you I'm just trying to find someone. I won't hurt anybody."

"I can't trust you. Too many of your countrymen have come here with ill intentions for me to trust any promises of goodwill."

He hated to admit it, but she had a point. This situation was quickly becoming more difficult than he'd prefer. There had to be a way to get around this thing. He thought for a moment, and then put forth his compromise. "Why don't we try to come to an arrangement? How about this: we can search together. I look around the village for the person I'm searching for, and you can be right there with me, ready to kill me if I so much as inconvenience the villagers."

"I can't do that," Ahri said.

Talon let out a long sigh. In his mind, the conditions were more than reasonable. "Why not?"

"I've never shown myself to the villagers before. If I'm with a Noxian the first time they see me, they'll never let me become one of them."

Talon couldn't help but ponder what an odd choice of words she had used. 'Become one of them'… Was this girl not human then? Did she simply mean she wanted to live in their village? If he wasn't on assignment, he might have let his curiosity get the better of him and ask. "Alright then, I have a different proposal." The fox girl didn't make any acknowledgement of his statement, and simply continued staring at him with a suspicious gaze. Perhaps she was waiting for him to continue. Talon proceeded with that line of thought. "Would you say you know everyone in the village?" he asked.

"I don't know any of them," Ahri replied. "They haven't even seen me."

"Yes, you said that, but do you know what they look like? Who they are?"

"Oh, yes," she responded, apparently taking great pride in being able to say so.

"So if I describe the person I'm looking for, would you be able to tell me whether or not they are staying in the village?"

The fox woman thought about Talon's proposal for a short time before giving her answer. "I will most likely be able to tell you, yes. However, before I do, I need to know what you plan on doing if the person you are looking for is actually there."

"I will find her and ask her to return to Noxus."

"And if she doesn't want to go back with you?"

This woman-thing was incredibly thorough. A part of him respected her desire to protect the villagers, but most of him was seething in frustration. Luckily, there was no reason for her to stop him. "If she doesn't want to come back, then there's no problem. She's not the one killing Noxians, so there's no reason to subdue her. As long as she doesn't cause any trouble for us, I can tell my commander that I killed her and she can live her life in peace."

Ahri's eyes narrowed at the assassin. She distrusted him greatly, but she could see no harm in cooperating. "Very well, describe your target, and I'll tell you if she's at the village."

"Well, she's a Shuriman stone mage."

"I can tell you right now that there are no Shurimans or stone mages in that village," Ahri said.

"Do you even know what a Shuriman is?" Talon asked.

"There are no stone mages in that village," came her reply.

This whole thing was beginning to give him a headache "And how can you know that? What if she just didn't use her magic because she was trying to blend in?" he asked.

"Fine, continue your description."

"She has tan skin, as one would expect from someone who grew up in a desert, and brown hair that stands up like this." He had never felt as ridiculous as he did when he made the hand motions that indicated the shape of Taliyah's hair. Here he was, one of the most feared assassins in all of Runeterra, miming the appearance of some upstart Shuriman teenager to a strange demihuman that was somehow taking this whole thing more seriously than he was. What had his life come to? If anyone in Noxus saw this, his reputation would be gone forever.

"Hmm… nope. She's not in the village," Ahri said.

"You're certain?" Talon asked.

"Absolutely. I've never seen anyone like that in my life."

Talon ultimately expected this, but it didn't make it any less irksome. He now had to search all of Ionia without any leads to go on. He could be at this for months; hell, he might never find her at all.

"Do you have any idea where she might be?" Talon asked. It was a bit of a stretch to assume she would be able to offer any useful information, but at this point, he would take anything he could get.

"If she's running away from Noxus, she's probably somewhere in the North, far from their armies," Ahri responded.

It wasn't a very useful answer, but it wasn't an inaccurate one either. He had come to the same conclusion on his own. The northern provinces of Ionia would indeed be the safest and most appealing destination for any Noxian runaways.

The assassin took one last look at the fox girl before he would turn away to depart, but there was one burning question he couldn't leave without asking.

"By the way," he began, "what _are_ you?"

The woman seemed mildly taken aback by the question, as though she hadn't expected him to ask. Should she tell him? This was the very first human she had worked up the courage to talk to, and she thought it was going pretty well. What if he tried to kill her upon learning what she was, thinking she was some kind of abomination? Could she ever work up the courage to reveal herself again if this first meeting went poorly?

Ahri held a prolonged stare toward the cloaked man as she considered her options. She assumed that if he wanted to kill her, he would have tried much earlier. He was also likely someone who killed on a regular basis, meaning probably didn't care much for spirituality or moral purity. Perhaps she _could_ tell him. He might not accept her, but he certainly wouldn't care enough to kill her. At any rate, it was worth a try; if a man like this didn't tolerate her, few Ionians ever would. "The people of this land call my kind gumiho," she proclaimed, "though you'll find I don't much fit in with the rest of them anymore."

"Gumiho? You mean those weird Ionian foxes?"

Ahri's eye twitched as she suffered the first ever insult of her life. She was not 'weird'. Sure, she was the only gumiho she knew of that actively stole human essence to turn into a full-fledged human, but she wasn't 'weird'.

Talon didn't know what to think anymore. The demihuman before him was claiming to be a member of a race of rare Ionian foxes that were supposedly inherently magical. The thing is, gumiho are _foxes_ , not full-grown women with animal parts and a taste for Ionian fashion. Upon closer inspection, her tails and ears did somewhat remind him of the few pictures he had seen of the gumiho, but that still left a great many of his questions unanswered. Surely, he thought, if he pried for a more in-depth explanation, he would end up either deeply unsettled or thoroughly confused due to lack of understanding of the magic that was undoubtedly involved… maybe even both. Deciding not to press the fox woman further, Talon dismissed the issue with an audible grunt and began walking back to the Noxian camp.

Ahri watched the blades on the man's cape swing back and forth with his steps as he walked away. A sense of melancholy began to take her. Here was the first human to ever know who she was, the first person to accept her (if one decided to be generous with their use of the word), the first person to ever speak with her in a non-hostile manner, and he was walking away. Granted, Caleb wasn't the best company, but he was so much like her. Ahri knew that if she put in the time, she would find that they were extremely similar people. He could likely be a much truer companion than any of the villagers. She didn't want this relationship to end; she didn't want to let him go, at least, not like this.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm gonna be frank, I really don't like this chapter. I had it finished and then scrapped the entire thing like 3 times. Eventually, I settled on a version I was willing to release (this one), but I am still somewhat unhappy with it. That was around Monday. Then I forgot I had a fanfiction and sat on the completed chapter for 3 days. Sorry I made you guys wait so long for such an uneventful chapter, but I figure needlessly long waits are like a fundamental trait of mine as an author on this site. Thanks for reading, and I hope you stay with me.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Well, this fic is now officially AU thanks to the new Demacia lore updates, and the story description will soon be edited to reflect this. No changes will be made to the core premise of the story, but I'm always happy to incorporate new lore updates into the story if it doesn't derail the plot/plot progression, as you will see in this chapter and other chapters soon to come. As always, thanks for reading.**

* * *

"Welcome back, Riven."

The young woman's eyes darted back and forth, desperate to identify the voice that called out to her. She had made a mistake by assuming she would be safe simply because she was back in Noxus. The dour slums of Noxus Prime could easily prove to be more of a lion's den than the front lines if one was unlucky enough to find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Up here."

Riven turned her gaze to the rooftops to find the silhouette of an all too familiar bladed cloak outlined by the overcast sky.

"Talon, it's you," Riven called in an exasperated voice. "I didn't expect you to be waiting for me. Is something wrong?"

The assassin dropped to street below with a nearly inaudible thud and casually made his way beside her. "Nothing's wrong, I just thought it appropriate to congratulate you upon your return. It _is_ your first mission as one of us, after all."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Do you know how long I've been following you?" Talon asked.

"You've been following me?" Talon was typically not a very expressive person, but he did have his tells. By now, Riven was starting to be able to interpret the meanings behind the small changes in his face as easily as if he were a mime. In this particular instance, he seemed quite disappointed.

"I thought as much. We'll have to schedule additional training sessions in between your missions."

"What!? Why? Demacia doesn't even have assassins!"

"True, but they do have ranger knights, and we can't have you compromising entire operations because you can't notice one on your trail."

Riven looked away dejectedly. Even after her official joining of the Crimson Elite and a successful first mission, she was still weighing the others down. At this rate it seemed she wouldn't even prove to have been worth the trouble of training. "So, did you reveal yourself just to scold me?"

"No," he answered. "You've been wandering around Noxus Prime since you gave your report at the estate. It's been nearly two hours."

"That… makes sense. I was looking for a place to get a decent meal; I'm starving."

"Don't lie to me. You could have easily eaten at the estate. You've done so plenty of times already."

Riven sighed. "Nothing gets past you, huh? Fine, I'll tell you, but this stays between us."

The swordswoman led her mentor to a claustrophobic alleyway that would offer them a modicum of privacy amidst the overpopulated slums. She leaned against a wall, settling herself in before advancing the conversation further. "Will it always feel like this?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know exactly. When I was in the military, all of my actions held purpose. I moved with a company of fellow soldiers, each of us reinforcing each other's convictions. There was little in the way of doubt or disquiet. I could stand before the gleaming armies of Demacia and swing my sword with the confidence of knowing I was fighting for the good of Noxus. This mission, though… the men I killed at that outpost… I can't shake the feeling that I wasn't justified in taking their lives. The whole assignment seemed so arbitrary… I feel like we could have left those soldiers alone and still been okay."

"It's always easier for a sheep to blame its shepherd for the course that it takes," Talon said. "You aren't a puppet to be marched afield to fight and die without question any longer. You are no longer a part of the hands of Noxus; you are its will. With this level of authority and autonomy comes the responsibility of self-regulation. We don't answer to High Command, we answer to General Du Couteau, and he frankly doesn't give a damn how we accomplish our missions so long as we return successfully. The only thing that has changed here is that the blood you shed is on your own hands now. So long as you think and act for yourself, that feeling will never go away."

Riven fell silent and thought over his words. From what she could tell, he was right. This assignment was the first time she had killed because she decided to rather than because she was ordered to. Perhaps that was what weighed so heavily on her. The soldiers at that outpost were not trying to kill her, nor did they pose any significant threat to the safety of Noxian citizens. However, that outpost had to come into Noxian hands if their soldiers were to make their way into the border territories undetected. She didn't agree with these increased hostilities, but it had to be done, and that was how she had elected to do it. Her sins were truly her own now.

"I think I understand what you mean," Riven eventually said. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"It always does." The assassin broke eye contact with his colleague, his eyes drifting to her disheveled snowy hair. "Here, turn around," he ordered. "Your hair is a mess."

Riven narrowed her eyes at Talon in suspicion, but relented to his request. The man would never say anything like, 'I'm glad you came back alive' or 'I'm happy we became friends', so instead, he would reach out like this. At least, that was what she liked to think. It was entirely possible that he just couldn't stand seeing people he knew going out in public looking so scruffy. For a recluse, he was rather insistent on keeping up good appearances. The swordswoman smiled to herself as she felt Talon tug at her hair and retie it in her usual fashion. She couldn't help but find humor in a man of his profession possessing such a skill set.

He eventually released her, analyzing and taking pride in his handiwork.

"Better?"

"Much better," he answered. "I know you were lying about being hungry earlier, but do you want to get something to eat? I don't have much time before I head out to find that ranger, and I'd prefer to spend the remainder of my time here doing something enjoyable."

"Of course," Riven answered. "Where shall we go?"

"I don't know. Let's see where our whims take us."

* * *

Talon jolted awake to a sensation he had never experienced before. His body, from head to toe, was alight with the strangest tingling one could imagine. The source was almost instantly made known to him. On her knees beside him was Ahri, the gumiho from the day prior. The fox girl had her eyes closed and was sapping a small stream of mana from him, apparently unaware he had regained consciousness.

"What the hell are you doing!?" he shouted.

Ahri's feline eyes popped open and her large furry ears shot skyward as Talon's voice shook her from her trance. "Y-you're awake."

"Yes, I'm awake. Why don't you go ahead and explain what you're doing here and what this is?"

"You're not angry, are you?" Ahri asked.

"Not yet," he answered, "but I will be if I don't get answers."

The gumiho took a deep breath to collect herself. "Well… I was trying to get to know you better."

"By siphoning my mana? You could have killed me!"

"Well, yes, but I have to take much, much more to hurt you. I was only taking enough to feel you, I promise."

Talon was beginning to realize that Ahri's lack of human interaction had left her vocabulary with a few oddities that didn't necessarily make much sense in common speech. "'Feel me'? Care to elaborate?"

"It's a little complicated."

"It's the dead of night; we have plenty of time. Now speak."

The woman sighed. "I guess you could say I was seeing your memories. I wanted to know more about you, and I was sure you weren't going to tell me yourself…"

"So instead of taking a chance and asking me, you decided to violate the privacy of my thoughts without my permission?"

Ahri's ears folded in embarrassment. "Well when you say it like that…"

Talon let out an elongated sigh, trying to cool himself down. Ultimately, he knew that getting upset at the fox woman would not amount to anything. Should he become aggressive, he might only be digging his own grave. "Why don't we start over? What are you doing here?"

"I've decided I want to come with you," Ahri said. "I want to learn more about the world, and I want you to teach me."

"So what, you've just been following me this whole time? It's been days!"

Ahri shook her head. "Following, but not 'following'… I think the appropriate phrase is 'catching up'. By the time I made up my mind to accompany you, I was already a day and a half behind. Luckily, people from Noxus are easy to track around here; your scent stood out like a fresh kill. Uhh… I'm sorry. That was inappropriate."

"Huh…"

"So, can I join you?" Ahri asked. "You're still looking for that girl, right? I know what she looks like now; maybe I can help."

It took great amounts of either bravery or inability to read the mood of a conversation to ask that sort of question right after being caught invading one's headspace in their sleep, and Talon didn't really respect either of those traits. He did, however, have need of a guide, and more importantly, someone to keep his mind off of Riven. He did not seek a replacement, just someone to talk to throughout the day to keep his thoughts from drifting. His nights, like his last, would likely still succumb to memories of his partner, but even so, the burden would be a little bit lighter.

"I see no harm in it, so long as you never do that again. You can stay."

The fox woman's features lit up in a display of joy. This was likely the happiest she had been in quite some time. "Thank you! Oh, thank you so much, Caleb! I promise you won't regret it."

Talon returned to his sleeping position and closed his eyes, eager to return to his slumber. "Sure, just go to sleep."

Ahri created a makeshift bed near her new companion and lay down, but sleep would not come to her. The whole of her being was alight with excitement, and the thought of making her first human friend made keeping still a terrible struggle in its own right. She passed a majority of the night lying silent, but wide awake. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

Ionian taverns were a world apart from those of Noxus. They were smaller, for one, not needing to accommodate as many people due to the lack of dense population centers. While that alone was not something that would impact a customer's enjoyment, their selection was also strikingly limited. Though many Ionian brews that Noxians viewed as rarities were commonplace here, there was a distinct lack of variety outside of that circle. Perhaps Ionians were less inclined to open breweries and try their hand at creating the next sensation to sweep through their nation's alcoholic communities, or perhaps the lack of a significant alcoholic community left entrepreneurs little incentive to risk the business venture in the first place. Whatever the case, for all the time Talon had been in Ionia, he had yet to be impressed. Even in the province of Navori, from which the capitol and center of Ionian society was only a stone's throw away, he was left wanting. Nonetheless, the familiar atmosphere and comfortable seating were a welcome break from the travel that had consumed the better part of his last couple days. Ahri had proven a vital companion during that time, providing both mind-numbing trivia about the local wildlife and invaluable guidance to see him through areas that would have pushed his navigational skills to their limits. He was slowly growing fond of the strange girl, though not in any meaningful way. At the very least, she was much less of a nuisance than he expected her to be.

Unlike him, Ahri was enjoying their tavern pit stop to a nearly dangerous level. Driven by her insatiable curiosity toward the human world, she seemed hell-bent on putting her life on the line to try as many drinks as she could. As amusing as it would be to watch the girl drink herself sick, Talon had to cut her off quite early into her rampage, needing her to remain reasonably sober so that they could continue the day's scheduled travel.

"You really do lack discipline for someone dressed so conservatively," he noted, gesturing to the hooded cowl the fox woman wore to cover her ears. Her tails, he understood, were coiled around her legs tightly enough that they wouldn't stand out through the skirt of the dress she was wearing. He could have lived without that information, but the fox girl didn't seem to care when she told him.

Ahri leered at Talon and groaned as the water he had ordered for her was placed at their table.

"Drink," Talon commanded, "Trust me, it's for your own good."

She reluctantly brought the cup to her mouth and began slowly sipping her drink, seemingly intent on displaying her displeasure throughout the process. Eventually, she set the cup back down, the alcohol beginning to cloud her senses. "Caleb," she began, "do you mind if I ask you about what I saw when I read your memories?"

"Do you really need to?" Talon asked. "Shouldn't you be able to answer the questions yourself? You have seen my memories, after all."

"Not _all_ of them, and not in their full con… con… content?"

" _Context_."

"Right. I only had time to feel the strong ones, the ones that are most important to you."

"Is that right?" If Ahri was not spiraling further into inebriation, she would have been able to tell his interest was quite blatantly feigned.

"Yes, so I was wondering, why did you tell me your real name?"

Talon leaned back into his seat as he contemplated her question. It wasn't a terribly meaningful gesture in his eyes, but he could see why she would take interest. She would presumably know by now that he had been called Talon for as long as his memory served, save for very recently. "You asked for my name and I gave it. It's that simple."

The woman's raven eyebrows furrowed as she began to drink her water in greater portions, her previous reservations now gone. "But it _isn't_ your name," she contested. " _Talon_ is your name. It has been for your whole life. Caleb is just what your parents called you, parents that you don't even remember. That's how you feel, isn't it?"

Talon paused for a moment to quell his irritation with the fox's persistence. He was not close with this woman, nor was he eager to go on a journey of introspective soul searching, but he had been shelving his identity crisis for some time now. While he wasn't keen on solving all of it that day, he wouldn't mind putting the issue into perspective. He would play along, for now. "Maybe I told you my real name to see if it was really mine. I wanted to feel what it was like to be Caleb, if even for the brief moments I would have had with you."

"You've gotten your wish; how does it feel, Caleb?"

"Frustratingly alien. Every time I answer to that name, I feel like I'm lying to myself. It's as though I'm reaching to claim a new life that never should have been within my reach in the first place. It's just not who I am. The mere thought of being a Demacian makes my stomach turn." Admitting that was oddly satisfying to him. Just having said so granted him levity he never would have expected.

Ahri set down her now empty cup in an animated fashion and her index finger began to trace its rim. She set her elbow on the wooden table and rested her head in her free palm, lulling herself into a trance as her eyes fixated on her finger's repeating circular motion. "Noxian, Demacian, Ionian, none of that really matters to people like us. The choice you face is much simpler, but also much more profound. Do you continue as Talon and return to the sisters and father that treated you like their own, living your life as you have all this time? Do you embrace your original life as Caleb, and reforge your bonds with your twin and lost parents? Do you walk the line between the two, naively hoping your duties and personal ties never contradict each other? Or… do you carve a new path, with a name and family of your own choosing?" Ahri sighed at her own musings. "It's a tough choice; even I wouldn't know which to choose."

Her words lit a fire within him. She was transgressing, and he would not tolerate it. "Do not speak as if you know me. You haven't even been able to feel emotions for most of your life; you could not possibly understand the conflicts humans face."

"You say that, but would you get so upset if I was wrong?" Ahri's finger finally drew to a halt, and the demihuman made eye contact with her companion for the first time in over a minute. She could see the frustration burning in his amber eyes. Even as socially inexperienced as she was, she knew she had pushed too many buttons. "I apologize," she said, "I'm being unfair. Would you like to know why I'm so interested in you, Caleb?"

"Not really, but you're going to tell me anyway."

Ahri giggled at his passive aggression. "Right you are. You know me as a gumiho, but that is only a part of it. My kind is but one of a great many that the Ionians call 'Vastaya'. There are hundreds of different races and tribes, but much like you, I do not have a place among any of them. To many I am 'Mu-Takl', a race traitor, cast out and scorned for my desire to become mortal."

"And you think that makes us similar?" Talon asked. "You and I ha-" Talon's statement was cut off by Ahri reaching across the table and placing a finger on his lips. As infuriating as it was to be silenced in such a way, the situation was so awkward that he didn't know how to react.

"I didn't finish, silly." The fox girl looked around to make sure no one was within earshot before continuing. "Where I believe the true similarities between us lie is in our actions. My human form is not natural; it is stolen from the life essence of my prey, and the price of my transformation this far was paid in rivers of blood. That, combined with my conflict with the few Vastaya that believe I should die for my endeavors, has forced me to fight and kill for years. My success and survival can be measured only in the bodies I have buried, a concept I know you're more than familiar with. I'm not here because I am an inexperienced fool that would follow an assassin simply because he was polite; I am here because unlike the villagers at Tevasa, you can understand me. We are the same, whether you admit it or not."

Talon sunk into his seat and closed his eyes, trying to wrap his head around the girl's story. If what she had said was true, then he had severely misjudged her, something he rarely ever did. He gave it more thought, considering her reluctance to reveal herself to common citizens and her apparent prowess in battle, and it all made sense. The gentle, playful person in front of him was a killer who carved her life's path through the bodies of those who opposed her, and in many cases, the innocent. If that was the case, he could not help but wonder what path she walked now. Was it one of repentance? Did her regret for her actions fuel a drive for redemption and reformation? Or was it one of indifference, in which she acknowledged her cruelty but carried on nonetheless, her goal of becoming mortal taking priority over all else? He had to know.

"You claim that the lives you have taken weigh heavily on your conscious; why then do you target innocents?" he asked.

Ahri's expression fell as she had to once again acknowledge the past she preferred to keep forgotten. "Looking like a human did not take much. I needed only a few to take a predominantly human form. Thinking and feeling like a human did not come until much later. Before, I felt no guilt, and so long as I could get away with it, my attacks were indiscriminate. It was only after I had done enough to crush me that I came to understand the horrors of my deeds."

"So how then do you plan on becoming mortal?"

"There are plenty of people in this world who do not deserve their lives," she replied. "Since they have no interest in their own humanity, I feel no remorse in taking it for myself."

Talon laughed for the first time in a while at that.

"What's so funny?" Ahri asked. "I just spilled my heart to you and you're laughing?"

"Don't worry, I'm not laughing at you. It's just funny… You're really nothing like me."

"I'm not?" she asked incredulously. She awaited his clarification, but also dreaded it. Would he reject her for her past deeds, or would he acknowledge their similarities and reciprocate her desire for companionship? Whatever the result, there was no going back now.

"No, you're worse." Talon lifted a hand in the air to draw the attention of the barkeep. "Why don't we get you another drink?"

The Vastayan girl's eyes went wide with shock at his accusation. It was not until she saw the smallest smirk on his face that she understood his meaning. He was joking; trying his best to make light of the grim life she had lived. In other words, he had accepted her. He knew of the blood on her hands and the trail of corpses she had left in her wake, and he still chose not to turn her away. She was right about him, and nothing made her happier than having won the first gamble she ever made. "I'll have to take you up on that. I think I'll try that Bilgewater import you seem so scared of."

Talon's high spirits sunk as he heard those words, as he had heard stories of Bilgewater drinks from Katarina. "That's not a good idea," he warned, "especially after having as much as you have."

"Pshh, what's the worst that could happen?"

"You could die."

"What? How would you even know? Have you had it?"

"No, but I know people who have. You may remember Katarina?"

Ahri searched her recollection of Talon's memories for the name, which she quickly connected with the red-haired Noxian he considered his sister. "Yes, go on."

"She regularly visits the island to gather crews for naval operations or just to pass the time. She's told me plenty of stories about Bilgewater grog. It ruins people's lives, and that's if you're drinking the real thing. Half of the time it's just piss."

"Now I _really_ have to try it," Ahri stated. By this time, the barkeep was ready for their order, and Ahri requested the rum from Bilgewater, just as she had planned. The drink eventually made its way to them, and Ahri took a cautious sip before setting it down. "Say, your father is the general that's leading the Noxian invasion, right?"

"General Marcus Du Couteau, yes."

"And you said your sister has a decent amount of influence in Bilgewater, yes? I assume she's among the fleets sacking the Northern provinces?"

"Most likely, unless she's already left to meet up with the General. Do you have a point?"

"I just find it curious that your family is off at the helm of the invasion while you've been sent to search for some girl."

"I wasn't sent to search for 'some girl' I was sent to search for one of the most powerful mages to cross a Noxian border since the exile of the Hastur family."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter. Look, my specialties are simply different from my family's. I posses the skill of a Du Couteau, but I am no leader of men. I am at my best alone, out of sight and out of mind. That's why they sent me to investigate your little village; I'm the one they send to solve problems they'd prefer to forget."

"Hmm, it still seems like a waste," Ahri noted. She took another sip of her drink and gently pushed it away. "Okay, one last question before we leave?"

"What?" Talon asked, "You aren't going to finish? I paid for that, you know."

"It's disgusting. I've never had my appetite ruined so quickly in my life, and I'm older than I look."

"Fine. Just leave it, then."

"Will do. Now, back to my question. That white haired girl from your dream… Riven, I think it was. Is she your mate?"

Talon remained silent, his amber eyes locked on her feline ones. Without a moment's hesitation, he reached for her rum and took a large swig, his desire for the loss to be dulled pushing him well through the ungodly taste. "Riven was not my mate, no. She might have been someday, but she died. I'd prefer to leave it at that."

"She died? I'm so sorry. I didn't see that in your memories; I didn't know."

"Don't pay it too much mind; I've been trying to forget about it myself."

An oppressive silence washed over the two as Talon gradually finished Ahri's drink. Minutes passed like this, without so much as a loud breath between the two. Eventually though, Talon could keep his silence no longer.

"He promised me he'd bring her back, you know?"

"Who?" Ahri asked.

"Marcus. He told me he'd see her back in one piece if it was in his power, but it was his order that killed her."

If Ahri could still trust her senses, she could have sworn he was tearing up under that hood.

"She died like a dog," he continued, "choking on toxic fumes that set your lungs aflame and instill a frenzied panic in your heart that's enough to kill you on its own. She didn't deserve that. None of them deserved it." He took a moment to try to collect himself, but he ultimately failed. "She was naïve, and it was bound to kill her eventually. She should have been slain by a great warrior that outmatched her in skill, dying for a nation that didn't deserve her loyalty, but she wasn't even afforded that much. Instead, she was forced into a corner and killed by a man that she admired, all of her efforts and struggles amounting to a meaningless death that accomplished nothing. She could have been a legend among our people, now she's just a name on a list."

"She was betrayed?" Ahri asked. "By your father?"

"In a sense. I haven't gone back to him already is because I can't guarantee I won't stab him the moment I see him. I respect that man above all others, but even I can't find it in myself to forgive what he did."

"So don't," Ahri suggested. "You don't _have_ to go back, do you? Even this mission you're on seems like it was meant as a chance for you to escape rather than something they actually expect you to complete."

Talon laughed at her proposal. Hate it as he did, he couldn't just leave Noxus and fall off the face of the planet. It was his home, for better or worse, and that wasn't going to change any time soon. Talon raised his cup to his lips to find it disappointingly empty. "There isn't enough grog in the world…" he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Talon answered, placing a silver coin on the table as he rose from his seat. "Come, we've wasted enough time here. We have a stone weaver to find." Just as Swain had said, the only thing that would keep his mind occupied was complete immersion in his mission; alcohol would only get in the way.

Ahri hurriedly stood, very quickly realizing how little motor control she retained through her drinking session. "But we don't know where she is," Ahri said, following her companion toward the door.

"I know someone who might. Tell me, have you ever met a bounty hunter before?"


	13. Chapter 13

Quinn took in a deep breath of coastal Ionian air, her muscles relaxing as she leaned against a tree in the immediate outskirts of an occupied Ionian port city. It was immeasurably refreshing, a far cry from the polluted shores of Noxus or Bilgewater. The only place that could compare was the waters of the Freljord, but the air was typically so cold there that one feared too great a breath would freeze their lungs solid. The novelty of the unbridled nature in Ionia had already found a special place in her heart.

Quinn had never been to Ionia before, but if Demacia failed in its intervention, chances were high she'd be coming back quite often. Already, the war was reaching a fever pitch. The Noxian Vanguard Army, led by General Marcus Du Couteau, had completely seized Shon-Xan and Zhyun province, meaning that the main forces under Lord Darius could be making landfall any day now. Hell, they could have already landed; news didn't travel fast in Ionia and she was too far north to stay up to date on the state of the war. Whatever the case, if the Demacian intervention force didn't turn this invasion into a two front war by the time Navori fell, Ionia as the world knew it would be a relic of the past.

To the average Demacian, the invasion seemed like an arbitrary act of malignance, conquest for conquest's sake. That was more than enough to spur most officials into support of intervention. A few more enlightened individuals, however, sought a deeper understanding of the situation. The prevailing theory among those who actually cared was that this military venture was a natural response to the Noxian civil war that occurred just over a decade prior, that, should the Demacians have paid attention, could have even been predicted. The defeat and execution of Prince Raschallion's forces, and thus their ideals, led to something of an intellectual exodus within Noxus. Many powerful magi and renowned intellectuals, led by Gregori and Amoline Hastur, fled the empire, and have since vanished from the public eye. This created a void of competent individuals in positions of power, allowing a cunning few to rise to greater heights, and perhaps even facilitating the Black Rose's return to prominence. As a result, Noxus's progress in academia and the arcane arts had come to a screeching halt, leaving the empire's leaders with a choice: allow the slow decay of the empire in these fields as they waited for the next generation to fill the gaps, or assimilate the veritable nexus of spirituality and magical prowess on Runeterra into their society as they had done so many times before. Their answer was laid out before her.

It was a shame to see the people that had fostered such natural beauty suppressed by a fleet of raiders so uncivilized that they called an ancient deity "the Bearded Lady", but there was nothing a ranger and her bird could do about that on their own. No, Demacia's Wings did not carry liberation with them this day. Instead, Quinn had come to this port following the only lead she had in regards to Talon's location: his contacts. They had discussed much during their time together in Demacia, but she happened to remember one line of his that might make her life quite a bit easier. In his own words, "It's hard to get much of anything done in Bilgewater without knowing someone bigger than you, especially if you're a Noxian. I'm not very fond of dealing pirates and brigands, but luckily l don't have to. Unless you're Gangplank himself, the only thing higher on the food chain than a pirate willing to do wrong is the bounty hunter that follows."

At face value, that information wasn't very useful. There were hundreds of bounty hunters in Bilgewater, most of which too scared to actually start collecting for fear of the repercussions. When one considered Talon's pedigree (however artificial it may be), it became clear that there was only one bounty hunter he would consider cooperating with: Sarah Fortune.

There were a number of variables that would determine whether or not he would seek her out. She didn't see anyone matching Talon's appearance during her time surveying the invasion force, and none of the brigands she had bribed had seen him with Katarina or among her ships, meaning that he wasn't working with them at all. That left only one remaining option: he was acting independently, and if that were the case, he would likely visit Sarah for information on the Northern provinces. It wasn't concrete, but she wouldn't have wasted time visiting four different port cities if it didn't seem like the most likely situation.

Quinn's eyes darted to her avian companion as his cry echoed throughout the landscape. Valor had been circling in the Ionian skies for nearly an hour now, scouting the port town for signs of either Sarah or Talon, and he had apparently found one of them. Quinn examined her clothing, ensuring that there were no visible crests or markings that betrayed her allegiance to Demacia, and began the long walk to town.

* * *

"Rafen? Is Rafen here?"

Ahri's stood before a docked ship, conveniently labeled _Syren_ , awaiting a response to her shouting. A brief moment passed before the most inconspicuous looking man she had ever seen called to her from the ship's deck.

"Who wants to know?" the man called, his voice carrying a mixture of caution and genuine curiosity.

Ahri's heart raced as she considered her response. She had always wanted to be in the midst of a mysterious conversation with less than wholesome people. One wrong step in the conversation would see someone dead, and the veiled words that were spoken were meaningless compared to their implications. It was truly thrilling. She would have to thank Caleb again for giving her the chance to make first contact with the _Syren_ 's crew, even if she was only supposed to be a decoy. The man she sought, Rafen, was dangerous, and second only to the captain in authority. According to Caleb, he was an incredibly plain looking man, which was apparently intentional, and served as an invaluable tool in his efforts of espionage. While he was not as deadly a killer or fighter, his skills in stealth were on par with Caleb's by his own admission.

"An associate," Ahri replied. "We're here to see the Captain of this ship."

"'We?'" the man answered. "I don't know if you noticed, but you're alone; and I'm certain I've never seen you before in my life. There's no way you're an _associate_ of any of this crew."

The fox-girl narrowed her gaze toward the blade at the man's hip. It was a short cutlass, with patterns on the cross guard that were made to imitate the style of the Demacian daggers Caleb had shown her. As he had said, they fell noticeably short of the real thing; it matched his description perfectly. She had her man.

"Are you sure, Rafen?" Ahri asked. "I know your name, don't I?"

The sailor's face twisted in displeasure as he realized the woman before him clearly had the upper hand in this conversation.

"Aye, I'm Rafen. What of it?"

"Will you let me see your captain? I promise you'll be in trouble if you don't let me."

"Ha! How 'bout I head down there show you what real 'trouble' feels li-"

The first mate's sentence was abruptly interrupted by the doors to the captain's cabin flying open. Emerging from the room was a beautiful young woman whose brilliant crimson braid swung to and fro as she strutted toward Rafen. Ahri didn't know much about what was considered attractive or desirable to men, but something told her this one was the whole package… a package topped with a comically large, albeit stylish, hat.

"Let her on, Rafen," she ordered. "We've been had."

The dumbfounded sailor stared at his captain with an inquisitive look, and for a moment, the entire dock seemed quiet save for the cry of an eagle overhead. Rafen reluctantly motioned for Ahri to ascend the boarding ramp and followed his captain into her cabin. Ahri hurriedly rushed behind them, incredibly pleased with herself and her successful diversion. By the time she passed through the cabin's threshold, Rafen, the captain, and Caleb were seated around a square table, leaving an open seat for her.

"You know you don't have to sneak onto my ship _every time_ ," Sarah said.

"It keeps me sharp," Talon replied, "and it keeps your crew sharp too. I'd bet every last one of them is more attentive after my visits."

"No arguments there," Rafen stated. "Still, did you have to bring _her_ with you? You know it's bad luck to have women on board." The man made awkward eye contact with Sarah before correcting his statement. "You don't count of course, Captain. It is _your_ ship after all."

"What brings you here Talon?" Sarah asked, choosing to ignore her first mate. "The usual?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Ahri, if you would."

The Vastayan girl reached into the collar of her dress and removed a pouch of coins that was tied to a rope necklace, placing it on the table before the captain. Initially, Ahri protested to carrying their payment on her person, as she feared she would be susceptible to skilled pickpockets, but the assassin had insisted, citing the fact that the clinking of the coins would give him away during his infiltration.

"We're looking for a rogue Noxian asset," Talon began, "A Shuriman girl that can contort the very earth with her magic. We suspect her to be hiding in these northern regions to evade the advance of the Noxian armies."

"A stone mage, huh?" Rafen asked rhetorically as he searched through his memories. "Actually, I think we do have a little something that can be of help." The sailor rose from his seat and walked to a nearby dresser, opening a drawer that was filled with leaflets and information folders on various unlawful incidents and bounty targets that Sarah considered to be of interest. He sifted through the vast amounts of paper, eventually picking out a folder and bringing it back to the table. "Recently, Ionian authorities have come across landscapes that 'ave been right torn asunder. The patterns don't match the habits of any of the wildlife, so the general consensus is magic. None of the reports in that folder are recent enough to really call a 'lead', so I doubt going to the sites would be very useful."

"Most of these are here in the north," Talon noted. The assassin agreed that the various disturbances pictured in the report defied natural convention. Unless there were more rock mages living in Ionia, this had to be Taliyah's doing.

"They are," Rafen replied. "Some people from other crews swear they've seen her with some swordsman. I don't know if I would trust that, though. They also go around saying there's a floating castle somewhere over the isles and that they've seen ninja corpses strewn about the woods. It's all a load o' shit… well, most of it anyway."

"Are you saying you don't believe in Janna, Rafen?" the captain asked.

Her first mate scoffed at the question. "I love ya, Cap'n, but please don't go around insulting me when we have guests aboard. The lads on deck can talk about their 'bearded lady' all they like; every sailor worth the rum in his belly knows that they owe their lives to the kindness of the wind goddess."

Talon turned to his Vastayan companion, whom he feared the conversation had left far, far behind. As he suspected, she seemed largely uninterested in the conversation at hand, though the faint smile she wore showed that she was glad just to have been included in the first place.

"Do you have any input, Ahri?" Talon asked. "Perhaps a place we should start looking?"

The assassin's question snapped the girl back into the present, her eyes refocusing and centering on her companion. "Well, we have to be getting close. Perhaps we should search to the west? If the pirates are advancing inland from the east, then she'll try to stay away from them. There's nothing else to the north but rampant spirits and the Kinkou temple."

"I'm not familiar with it, but do you think that could be her destination?" Sarah asked. "It would make sense for a runaway to seek refuge at a temple."

"It's unlikely," Talon answered. "I doubt she even knows it exists. If she did, she would have made it there long before she could have created any of the messes in your file. She's still wandering; I'm sure of it."

Captain Fortune pocketed the sack of gold in her white and blue coat. "I'm sorry we couldn't be of more help to you Talon, but we've given you all we could offer."

Talon shook his head. "It's fine. I'm getting closer; that's all I needed to know. Now if you don't mind, I-"

The assassin's words were interrupted by a booming knock on the door to the deck.

"Captain, we've got a visitor!" a burly voice shouted from outside.

"Another one?" Rafen asked. "You didn't bring any more friends, did you?"

"She says she's looking for Talon!"

Sarah looked at the Du Couteau, checking with him to see if she should allow him in. The man nodded, and reached into his cloak, presumably to secure an emergency blade or two.

"Let her in!" Sarah shouted.

Without a moment's waste, the doors parted to reveal a fairly tall young woman with shoulder-length indigo hair and leather padding.

"Quinn?" Talon and Ahri simultaneously exclaimed.

"Oh? You're actually here. That makes my life quite a bit easier," the ranger-knight said. "Captain Fortune is it? I am Quinn, a Demacian ranger-knight. I've come seeking the assassin called Talon."

That did not bode well. Sarah was well familiar with Demacian's sense of duty overriding every other facet of common sense in their bodies. She had to lay down the law. Sarah stood and drew her masterwork pistols. "Listen, I don't know what your business is, but if either of you start trouble on board my ship, _both_ of your corpses are being flung overboard. Is that understood?"

"Calm down," Talon said. "If she had come to kill me, one of us would already be dead." He turned his attention to his sister. "Care to tell me why you're here?"

"I'm on assignment," Quinn explained. "I am to prevent your interference in the Demacian liberation effort at all costs."

"That's all?" Talon asked. "Did they find out about m-"

"They know everything." Quinn answered. "I faced crimes of treason and could have easily been sent to Mount Targon for my crimes."

"Well, I'm glad you're still alive."

"You and me both. You should have seen the look on the king's face when I told him…"

Sarah and Rafen watched on in bewildered silence as two people who should be sworn enemies continued their casual conversation, catching up with each other as though they were old friends. The first mate leaned toward Ahri and spoke, "Is there something we're missing here?"

"They're twins," Ahri explained with a smile. "You don't have to worry."

"They do look a little similar," the captain noted. "But if she's here, then does that mean Demacia is too?"

"Alright, alright!" Rafen shouted over the conversing pair. "I'm sure you're both glad to see each other, but you'll have to stow it until you're off this ship. You, ranger-knight, we've got questions for you."

"Ask away."

"We need to know if your armies have yet made landfall. The last word we've received from the front only said that Darius had begun his push into Navori."

"What?" the twins simultaneously exclaimed.

"You mean you didn't know?" Sarah asked.

"Of course not," Talon answered. "My mission has no dependency on knowledge of the war effort. I've been out of the loop for weeks."

"I've been occupied here in the north as well," Quinn stated. "How long ago was this?"

The captain took a moment to rack her memory of the report. "They would have crossed into Navori four days ago now. So, are the Demacians going to make it in time or not?"

"That depends on how much resistance they face. If Noxus's march to the Placidium is slowed enough, Demacia may be able to join that battle as it is waged. However, that would be the best case scenario. If their march truly started four days ago, I can't see a future in which Demacia meets the Noxian main force before the Placidium comes under siege. If Ionia survives this, it will be by its own might."

* * *

Quinn whistled as her feet once again touched Ionian soil. In mere moments, Valor returned to his perch upon her arm, glad to be back with his partner. The ranger gently ran her hand over the azurite eagle's head, earning a series of squawks in return.

"Hey, you're right Valor. I'll ask him." Quinn looked back to the _Syren_ 's boarding ramp as Talon and his fox friend descended back to land. "Hey, Talon, this isn't the girl you described to me back in Demacia. Did you find a new lady already?'

Talon did not seem to want to entertain that question, but he didn't have to.

"Caleb is _not_ my mate," Ahri clarified. "And I am not a 'lady' I am Ahri, a native Ionian and Caleb's guide."

"Wha… She calls you Caleb?" Quinn asked in disbelief. "Did you actually tell someone your name?"

"She can read minds," Talon said, hoping for the conversation topic to drop.

"Okay, but she's still alive. You can't expect me to believe that you let someone read your mind _and_ call you Caleb without killing them. You told her your name, didn't you?" Valor squawked affirmatively, indicating his agreement with his partner's conclusion.

Talon let out an exasperated sigh and began walking into the town, Ahri quickly following suit. "How far away did Sarah say that next town was?" he asked. "Two days?"

"A day and a half if we don't sleep," the Vastayan girl answered.

"That's not happening," Talon said.

Quinn broke into a brief jog to catch up to the pair, prompting Valor to fly off of his perch. "Where are you guys going?" Quinn asked. "The Placidium?"

"We're heading further west in search of a rogue. You can go back to your armies if you wish; we have no intention of intervening in your efforts."

"Command will never accept that. I'm accountable for any actions you take for the entirety of this conflict."

"Then I guess you're just going to have to spy on us from the tree line, aren't you?" Talon joked.

"Ha ha, very funny. So, _Caleb,_ where are we headed?"

* * *

The Demacian ranger-knight seated herself near the camp's small campfire, her gaze turning to the sleeping assassin beside her. She was surprised a city boy like him could sleep so soundly on loose dirt when you couldn't see more than a few meters away from the fire, but she supposed he had been doing it just as long as she had. Given his time as a homeless urchin, he was likely far more accustomed to sleeping on the ground than on a bed. Hell, he was probably right at home.

Ahri too seemed comfortable out in the woods. Quinn knew very little about the woman, but what she had observed told her that the forests of Ionia had likely been her home for a long time. She had been incredibly intrigued with Valor, apparently never having seen a bird of his size, and Valor in turn was more than pleased to be the center of her attention. Even now, she played with the eagle in the nearby woodland as she had for at least the past hour, just beyond the reach of the flame's light. The two of them could likely venture quite a distance away and be able to return safely, but they were staying close, the sounds of their mischief being Quinn's only confirmation of their continued presence.

Talon certainly kept strange company. He had befriended Noxian nobles and warriors, upstart bounty hunters, and now an Ionian chimera woman, the last of which was particularly confusing to her. What could he possibly have done to earn himself such an unusual companion? She had sought to find out through passive observation, and while the past few hours' travel had answered many of Quinn's questions about Talon's time in Ionia, they had also left new ones in their wake. Her memories of Talon in Demacia were of a stoic and somewhat cynical man whose silence was born largely from indifference toward the world around him. The Talon she had walked through Ionian forests with was much different. He was much less reserved now, often breaking into banter with this Ahri girl that she could never see the old Talon being able to tolerate. She couldn't wrap her head around what the two could possibly had in common with each other, but there was clearly some kind of bond between them.

Quinn felt something nudge against her side and looked down to see Valor begging for affection, Ahri walking past him to relax near Talon. She relented to her friend's request and stroked his head, stunned that she was so deep in thought that she didn't notice the sounds of their play coming to a halt. It was worryingly uncharacteristic of her. Perhaps it was in her best interest to but her doubts and worries to rest; the opportunity was right before her, after all.

"Did you know Caleb talks in his sleep?" Ahri spoke out into the ether.

"You're asking me?" Quinn asked.

"Who else?" Ahri confirmed with a giggle. "He's been quiet so far, but he almost always does it when you mess with his nose." Without waiting for Quinn's input, the Vastayan girl gently brushed a tail against his nostrils, coaxing an unintelligible series of mumbles out of the assassin's mouth. Ahri giggled again, seeming to find an inexplicable joy in toying with the man.

"Is this something you do often?" Quinn asked. "If he catches you, you might get killed."

Ahri dismissed the warning with a brief wave of her hand. "He wouldn't. He's lost too much to start taking again. At least, not anytime soon."

That statement gave the ranger pause. "What are you talking about?"

"His Riven died," she explained, "killed by his father's orders. He hides it well enough, but I know it's tearing him up. You've noticed, haven't you?"

"I have." The ranger knight rested her head in her hand. The veil her twin had created had dissolved vapor, and she understood everything now. She remembered the light that burned in his eyes as he spoke of this girl in Demacia, and that light had been gone ever since she had found him again. "But how would you know? You couldn't have known him long before this happened."

Ahri shook her head. "I can read minds, remember?"

Talon had mentioned this before, but even with that being the case, she wasn't sure if they were messing with her or not. It did not take the fox girl long to pick up on her skepticism.

"I didn't need to, though," Ahri continued. "His sorrow speaks through everything he does. When he accepted my friendship, I could tell he was not trying to forge a new connection, he was trying to let go of an old one. His eyes keep looking forward not because he has moved on, but because he can't bear to look back. The steps he takes in pursuit of this mission are not steps toward the future, but steps away from the past."

"I think I get it," Quinn said. As awkward as the girl had proven to be in social settings, she was surprisingly adept at understanding others. Everything Ahri said resonated with what Quinn had observed of Talon. Had he ever lost someone important to him before? Did he even know how to cope with those kinds of emotions? "I suppose we should be grateful he didn't resort to something more… destructive."

"I guess so," Ahri replied. "But I don't think he's in as much trouble as you think. He values his sisters quite a bit more than you would think… both you and the others. He would have sought one of you out eventually, but since you're already here, you can help him heal."

Quinn looked at Talon's sleeping form. "You turned out to be a real piece of work, Caleb. You let one person in and suddenly all of those years of solitude and independence shatter into pieces." A comforting hand fell on the assassin's shoulder. "Well don't you worry; Quinn's here. We'll get through this together, just like the old days."

* * *

 **A/N: Finally got this chapter done. It's a bit of a disaster (I count three-ish line breaks... disgusting) but it gets the job done. That aside, after consulting with like one person, I've decided to split the original story I had planned for this fanfic into two different fanfics. Should We Meet Again will end at roughly the halfway point of the original story, concluding with the end of the Talon x Riven arc. I trust that shouldn't be a huge problem, since that's what most of you are probably here for anyway. Once it's over, you can leave the story behind, satisfied (hopefully) with a solid Talon x Riven fic. For those of you that are interested in what else I have planned for the story, you can jump ship to the new fic I'll publish soon after this one ends. Whether you plan to continue the adventure with me or not, I want to say thanks for sticking with me this far. See you guys in the next chapter.**

 **6/19/17 EDIT:** **Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one. Hey guys, posting in response to the most recent review that requested a clarification on my story split. Hopefully, this will clear things up. The original story plan I had for SWMA involved two major parts. The first part is what you have read so far, a story about Talon and Riven and their lives during the Noxian invasion of Ionia. The second part would take place after a time skip of around five years from the end of part one, and would feature a different central conflict and plot line. While part two happens in the same continuity as SWMA, and many characters are planned to return (including Talon and Riven), Talon and Riven's relationship and personal development will no longer be a primary focus of the story, and other characters will become more relevant to the development of the new central story line than those two. With such a dramatic shift in story tone, focus, and general plot elements, I (as well as my pseudo beta reader) felt it best to split the two parts into their own stories. The new iteration of SWMA encompasses what was originally part one, which will end with the conclusion of Talon and Riven's personal stories. What was originally part two of my initial concept for this fanfic will be posted as a separate story on this site some time after SWMA is finished. While some secondary plot threads will be left unaddressed in SWMA as a result of this disconnect (e.g. Cassiopeia's trip to Shurima), I am confident that the new ending point of SWMA will bring a satisfying conclusion to the story of one of the most tumultuous periods of Talon and Riven's lives without leaving any unsatisfying cliffhangers in its wake. I hope this clears up anything that was left potentially unclear in my Chapter 13 Author's Note. Thanks for taking the time to read my story. (Originally posted in Reviews)**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: This chapter is short and also not as good as I wanted it to be. Approaching the end of the story was not something I was mentally prepared for. Half of me wants to stall and the other half just wants to be done with this part and move on to part two. I should get over it, though. If the next chapter goes the way I want it to, we will have entered the final five or so chapters I have planned. Thanks for sticking with me guys, and enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

Riven's eyes focused ever forward, each of her steps carrying her further and further into the thick of the Ionian wilderness. She was getting close now; she had to be. The Exile halted, sighing as she brought the last of her spherical rations to her lips. The horrid smell wafted up to her nose before she could force it down, thoroughly ruining what little appetite she had. These "giant balls of rat shit", as Talon so affectionately called them, were a fairly recent development in Noxus, and served as a method by which one would stay nourished and energized during prolonged field missions in which a day's meal was not a certainty. Learning how to make them and how to identify usable ingredients in varying parts of the world to do so was arguably the dullest part of Riven's Crimson Elite training, but it was far and away the part she was most thankful for now.

As it turns out, being a vagrant doesn't put any food on the table, and she didn't have many skills aside from lifting surprisingly heavy things and killing people. Unfortunately, neither of those talents carried much weight in Ionia. Being much too proud to beg, and not having the mind to even consider selling herself, Riven was left with a choice: starve to death, or resort to the most disgusting food she had ever tasted. Now, the putrid morsel she held in front of her mouth was her only hope of earning a warm meal tonight. Recently, a band of pillagers from Bilgewater had been terrorizing the denizens of this remote corner of northern Ionia, and the bounty she would collect from their heads would buy her a soft bed and her first proper meal in weeks.

As grateful as she was for bandits to bring to justice, it was initially jarring to learn that even provinces this far from the front lines would feel the war so viscerally. Perhaps it would stand to reason that the places far out of reach of the regulations of the Noxian Empire would fall victim to the avarice of lawless raiders. Either way, there was naught she could do but bring an end to their tyranny one by one, and earn a little coin as she did so. Some could say that it served as a form of retribution for her… saving the people she had sinned against from the cold hands of her former allies, but that was far from the truth. It was Noxus that needed redemption, not her. It was true that she had committed many an injustice in the name of the Noxian Empire, and she was not opposed to making up for it in ways such as this, but it was by no means her goal. Performing menial tasks for strangers until she arbitrarily decided that she had made up for her past could bring joy to a small few, but the reformed and pure Noxus that she strived for could bring greatness to all of known Runeterra.

The snow-haired wanderer shoved the sorry excuse for food into her mouth, chewing only long enough to ensure she wouldn't choke, and swallowed, her face twisting in disgust. That hot meal couldn't come soon enough. Riven resumed her pursuit, hot on the trail of raiders she sought. Well, multiple trails, now. Being so near to what she could only assume was their camp, she had begun to find that there was no shortage of trails of leading to and from a center point of focus that couldn't be very far ahead. These signs were nothing so obvious as footprints that sunk four inches into the soil with no fading from erosion or weather, but other things: clearly foraged flora, artificial marks on tree bark to mark one's path back to camp, peels of fruit littered here and there, and other such things. There was no telling how quickly she would be upon them now. Riven readied her fragmented blade and steeled herself for combat, however it may come.

As empowering a moment as it was, there were times when she regretted dashing her sword on the rocks. In her days with the Crimson Elite, her black stone rune blade would have given her more than a fighting chance against any number of foes. Now, all she had in the way of weapons was what little metal remained attached to the hilt of her blade. She wouldn't have kept it if she could afford a replacement, but a state of the art greatsword was well out of the price range of a Noxian vagabond that didn't even carry Ionian currency. Against more skilled opponents, she would find herself at a loss, but her opponents were common highwaymen and reavers. She would find a way to make it work.

* * *

Riven smiled to herself as she tilted her wooden chair back, tossing her sack of gold coins back and forth between her hands. It was terrible etiquette, or so she had been told, but she didn't care; she was back in business, and it felt damn good. That aside, it was so late that there was no one else even in the inn's communal area, so she was definitely going to cut loose, good manners be damned. The smell of her noodles nearing culinary perfection in the innkeeper's kitchen was nothing short of rapturous for the exile. When the bowl finally made its way to her table, she hovered her face in the rising steam of the dish and cemented the sensation in her heart forever. She had enough leftover money to pay for lodging and food for another three days, but after that, there was no telling when she would find work again. Perhaps it was time she finally figured out what her life was going to entail from this point out. She couldn't keep going as she was. There wouldn't always be a bounty ready to fall into her lap, and no Ionian would be leaping at the chance to hire a Noxian for at least a few decades.

"Would you care to indulge the curiosities of a bored innkeeper?" asked the woman who had brought her dinner.

"I'm afraid I'm not that interesting," Riven said, wary of the woman's sudden curiosity.

"Oh please," the older woman chastised. "You gave me nearly nine times the cost of your meal. If you can't count Ionian money you must not be from around here. Surely you have a story or two you wouldn't mind sharing."

"I don't know…" Riven replied with a mouthful of noodles. "Maybe I just can't count." She was pensive about revealing too much to a native Ionian, but this innkeeper struck her as a kind soul. She was modest in her clothing and movement, and her slightly wrinkled face gave her the air of a doting mother. It was nearly an impossible task to keep her walls up around such an endearing person.

"It's really none of my business, but where did you come across that much coin?" The innkeeper gestured to Riven's sack of coins to emphasize her point. "Pardon me saying, but you're dressed in rags. It's not exactly common to see someone like yourself walking around with heavy pockets." The doting mother was apparently also quite persistent.

Riven let the woman's comment slide in the spirit of it being an honest observation. "Well if you must know, I've just collected on a bounty for a few Bilgewater rats that have been active in the area. Hopefully it will be easier living in these parts for a little while."

"Is that so? That would explain why you'd come in the dead of night, I suppose. The walk from the Warden's station _is_ quite long."

"That it is," Riven said as she slurped up another string of noodles.

"Well, you let me know when you're ready and I'll show you to your room." The woman began walking back to her counter. "Thank you for buying us some peace, however short lived it may be. With the Noxians nigh upon us, I doubt anyone will take these quiet days for granted."

"Are they really that close?" Riven asked. "They can't have even set foot in Navori."

"They haven't yet, if recent talk is to be believed, but they are terribly close. As much as I'd like to pretend the armies of Noxus are far removed from this place, if Navori and the Placidium are taken, the rest of Ionia may as well have fallen with them."

Riven considered her words, recalling her discussion with General Du Couteau before their march through Jyom pass. Even today she found it remarkable how well he understood the hearts of a people he had so little contact with. She had a long way to go before she was ready to become the leader she needed to.

"Would it really be so bad if they won?" Riven asked. "We'd become a part of one of the strongest nations in Valoran." She already knew the answer to that question, but that was _her_ answer. If she wanted to understand the way Marcus did, she needed to know what it was like from the outside looking in.

"Of course it would be. Our very identity as a people would be lost. Hundreds of generations of culture and spirituality would become meaningless. The imperials have made it very clear that they do not place any value on us as a people. They do not even fight us like men. They march into our homelands with machines that spread death through the very air, killing off our proud soldiers like dogs. Why should any of us expect them to live with us honorably if they cannot even war with us honorably? They are tyrants and cowards who care nothing for their fellow man, and the loss of any culture to that beast's insatiable hunger is a tragedy."

"You're right… you're right. I'd be on my way to the Placidium myself, but I've already seen enough fighting to last a lifetime."

"You? Please. You're much too young to be talking like that. Though I suppose you _would_ have to be pretty experienced to bring down a gang of brigands with that chunk of scrap metal you brought with you. I'd ask you how you did it if I wasn't so scared of the answer."

Riven couldn't help but chuckle at that. She didn't know how right she was. What would her reaction be if she found out her latest patron was one of Noxus's most fearsome fighters. "You say that, but I'm serious. Trust me, there aren't many people in this world that want to drive steel through Lord Darius's fat head any more than me. And don't even get me started on that damned General Du Couteau."

"Yes, well, maybe my son will get 'em for you. I swear, I haven't seen that much fire in his eyes since the day he was born."

"Your son left to fight?"

The kindly innkeeper nodded. "Mine and half the continent's it seems. Once news of Tuula's falling reached us, nearly every young man that could swing a stick took off for the Placidium. These scoundrels from Bilgewater wouldn't be having such an easy go at us otherwise."

Riven finished off her noodles and shook her head. "The battle for the Placidium will likely see the fiercest fighting of any battle in our lifetimes. If— _when_ your son makes it back, he won't be the same man that left."

The innkeeper sighed knowingly at Riven's statement. "I know that. I'd have stopped him if I could. I've seen these young men, though. Most of them would rather die fighting for something they believe in than live their lives wondering if their blade was the one that could have made the difference. Bravery or foolishness, it's the pride that great nations are built on. Personally, I don't care if he pisses his trousers and leaves without killing a single imperial so long as he makes it back to me in one piece." The innkeeper shook her head to chase away her negative thoughts. "Maybe when he comes back I'll introduce you. He could stand to find a lady with a keen blade and good head on her shoulders."

Riven struggled to keep from spitting her noodles across the room. "I—I'm flattered, but I'm taken… I think."

"You 'think?'" The innkeeper parroted. "Lass, your good looks aren't going to last forever. Whatever man is beating around the bush and having you 'think' you're taken is wasting your damn time. I don't know what your circumstances are, but you're gonna want to catch a man while your face is fresh and your tits still bounce. I've seen too many women sail through their prime without so much as thinking about settling down only to loathe life once they're old and lonely. Don't make that mistake; you're too good for that kind of life."

Riven didn't know how to respond to that in the slightest. "I…uh. It's me, not him We had just decided to get serious and I ran away. Not from him, but from the life that led me to him. It's a little difficult to explain."

"Yes, well, I think I understand. You two were soldiers, weren't you? Noxian soldiers. It explains quite a bit, don't you think?"

Riven let out a defeated sigh. "Yes, yes it does. So, are you going to kick me out?"

"Why would I turn away a paying customer? Besides, as far as I can tell you've been nothing but good to us here. Why don't you come with me, Dear? You've been excellent company, but you look exhausted. I won't be able to forgive myself if I keep you up any longer."

"Of course. Thank you for your kindness."

* * *

It seemed like a lifetime ago that Riven had last felt the caressing touch of feathered pillows and soft blankets. She swore this was the most comfortable set of bedding she had ever experienced, but at this point, she could have been given a rock and a quilt of dry leaves and it would feel just as good as Talon's bed in the Du Couteau manor. This was not the first time Riven's thoughts had drifted to her mentor since her self-imposed exile, but it _was_ the first time he wasn't competing with "What am I going to eat today?" and "Is it safe to sleep here?" In truth, Riven had never felt more confused than when she considered her relationship with Talon. Just how deep did their connections run? Sure, they had been intimate with each other, but under what circumstances? That was potentially the last time she would be around a man she was comfortable enough to even show her midriff to for the rest of her life. Of course she would take the opportunity to have a good lay with a man she could trust before being deployed to the front lines of Noxus's latest and most deadly military venture.

She didn't mean to seem like she was making excuses; she really did care for the man. Hell, she might have another go at him right now if she knew where he was, but that didn't leave her any less confused. Impending war or no, she had absolutely no idea how to feel about waking up to his sleeping figure beside her. He definitely had a place in her heart, but did she truly love him? Whenever she saw him, she was overcome with the desire to be as close to him as possible. Yet, when she woke up beside him, a part of her felt like she had overstepped. It couldn't have been regret; that night had been among the best of her life. If it wasn't regret, though, how could her stomach be tied in so tight a knot the following morning?

If they were to somehow cross paths in the middle of this mess of a war, what would she even say to him? She had promised him that they would pick up where they left off, but is that really what she wanted? Was it even what _he_ really wanted? Perhaps the problem wasn't her at all; maybe it was him. After all that time they spent together developing their relationship, she didn't have so much as a speck of dust in the way of competition. She was literally all he had. How could she know he truly loved her when he didn't even have to think about his decision to be with her? She wasn't chosen over anyone or anything else in his life, she was simply taken as she came and integrated into his life and bed as if it had always been that way. How could a man that disagreed with nearly every principle she held at the core of her person love her the way he claimed to? Even if his feelings were true back then, would they remain so now that she had cast off that part of her life like a shed skin? Would she even get along with Talon anymore?

A self-inflicted pillow strike to the face brought her endless train of unanswerable questions to a screeching halt. Such things didn't matter to her anymore. Her time in Noxus would hold no bearing on who she wanted to become, nor would anyone in it. This was a brand new Riven leading a brand new life. If she let a brief romantic endeavor with someone she might never see again chain down her psyche to this degree, she wasn't even close to being ready to change an empire. Talon, Katarina, Cassiopeia… the three of them were the final anchors that held her down to a past she wanted nothing more than to be rid of. It was hard, but she had to let go. A new Noxus was waiting for her, and it would take a new Riven to herald it into being.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Guess who isn't dead... me. We are nearing the end of Part 1. Can't wait.**

* * *

The bells that accompanied the opening of the front door of the inn drew Riven's gaze away from her meal. She wasn't eager to show her face freely lest she be recognized, but she would make an exception this time. There were scarce few people around to even visit this inn, and with these new guests arriving in the dead of night, they were bound to be interesting people. Light brown eyes searched for the newcomers, aided only slightly by the dim light of nearly burnt out lanterns. The kindly innkeeper had gone to sleep for the night, trusting Riven would do no harm, and all but certain that there would be no more guests to attend to. As such, Riven was left to her late night meal, which she enjoyed in darkness and, formerly, solitude. Eventually, she made out their forms, a tall, lean man with long, unkempt hair, followed by a much shorter girl whose hair stood up almost perfectly straight.

"I trust you're not planning on causing any trouble with that sword," Riven called out to the pair.

"It would be nice for the 'trouble' we face to have been of our own doing for once…" the man answered, "But no, we are only here for a meal."

"The innkeeper's asleep," Riven informed. "I can wake her, if you like. Just grab a seat and I'll have her out shortly."

The girl was quick to object. "Oh no, we couldn't impose. We can just-"

"It's fine," the exile interrupted. "The old lady needs the business anyway. I'll be right back."

"Thank you," the young woman replied. The pair watched as the white-haired woman disappeared into the back halls of the inn, her steps fading further and further out of earshot.

"I wasn't expecting company, Little Sparrow," the man said. He turned to his partner, noticing how her usually gleeful expression had turned sour. "Something troubles you?"

"She's worse than 'company', Yasuo," Taliyah explained. "She's a member of Noxus's Crimson Elite, a regiment of elite fighters under the general spearheading the Ionian invasion. I only saw her once during my time in Noxus, but people like her are hard to forget. We should leave."

The swordsman didn't spare even a moment to consider Taliyah's proposal, taking a seat in a booth at the edge of the room. "Sit. We're in this situation because of me. The least I can do is fill your stomach before sending you off on your journey. Besides, we came all this way for a proper meal; I won't have that effort be wasted."

"But they're looking for us! We killed Ionian officers back there; we don't have time to deal with people like her. I don't even know if we can beat her."

"We won't have to," Yasuo stated. "Didn't you see her? The war has already defeated her. Why else would she be so far away from the army she holds such a prestigious position in?"

"I… I don't know." Taliyah sat down across from Yasuo, eventually relenting to her companion's offer. "I hope you're sure about this."

"So…" a voice called from elsewhere in the inn. The pair immediately recognized it as their fellow patron. "What brings you here, Taliyah? From what Talon told me, I didn't peg you as the type to abandon ranks and run away with a wanted criminal." The woman had returned alone, and wielding a shard of the large blade she carried before.

"I could ask you the same thing," Taliyah spat back. "What would a Crimson Elite soldier be doing all the way up here?"

"Running. Same as you, I guess." Riven gestured to the swordsman. "You know this man is wanted for murder, right?"

"The elder's death was not my doing."

"Then why don't you stand trial?"

"Because the trial will find me guilty, and rob both myself and the fallen elder of true justice."

"So you seek the murderer on your own," Riven surmised. "A noble goal, I suppose."

"If you truly think so, perhaps you can help me. Tell me, are there any within the Noxian ranks that can harness the wind?" Yasuo drew his blade, summoning a spire of air around it that could cut with a truer edge than steel could ever manage. "The elder was felled with wind techniques, and none that wield such powers are known to me. The trial overseers have no choice but to implicate me for his death."

"I do," Riven answered. "The blade I carry is inscribed with a wind enchantment."

"Then _you_ are the one-"

"I am not. This weapon was gifted to me, and similar weapons may very well have been gifted to other Noxians. I have killed many Ionians during this war, but none were of such a high station."

Yasuo's face twisted in anger. "And how do I know you aren't lying to save yourself from my retribution?" The swordsman pointed his katana directly at the exile, threatening violence. "Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?"

"Are you going to kill me?" Riven asked. "It _would_ be in your best interest, all things considered."

The swordsman did not answer, his gaze holding steady and his sword unwavering.

"Come then, we'll settle this outside. What kind of person would I be if I destroyed the livelihood of the last person to show me kindness over some delusional fool's bravado?"

* * *

Riven knew that Ionia was home to some of the fiercest and deadliest weapon styles Runeterra had ever known, but she never expected its vagabonds to be able to match the Du Couteaus with a blade. This man before her, Yasuo, was the embodiment of the wind. His body flowed like a smooth autumn breeze, and his blade struck with the fury of a typhoon. Whatever his art, he was clearly a master.

Their blades had met a few times now, but never in earnest. They were simply testing the waters, trying to surmise as much about their opponent as possible before committing to an attack that would decide life and death. Riven was stronger, at least as far as she could tell, but she doubted it would matter against this man. From their few brief trades, she could already tell that he was the superior fighter. His technique was flawless, and his wind was much stronger than hers. She would need to use all of her remaining wind enchantment to even hope to keep up with his movements.

Having had enough of this stalemate, Riven closed the distance between them with a spinning backslash that carried her forward a great distance. Even to a veteran swordsman, Riven's staple techniques would be unfamiliar and difficult to react to; her entire style was built upon this fact. The vagabond, however, did not seem fazed. He easily met her blade with his own, interrupting the horizontal swing before it could reach his body. Continuing on the same motion, the man used the momentum from his deflection to force her blade downward just enough to have an opening to thrust at her.

There would be no parrying this attack. Riven had no choice but to disengage the man entirely, using everything available to her, she dashed backwards, immediately reassessing her options. She had misjudged him. It was now clear that he would be able to effectively parry any attack that was too telegraphed, regardless of how bizarre she believed it to be. She would have to fight like Talon, her strikes kept compact, efficient, and deadly. Working around the reach disadvantage her shattered weapon thrust upon her would be difficult, but she had her methods. Resuming her offensive, the exile dashed directly at the man, the wind shielding her from whatever blow may intercept her advance. It should have worked. It didn't.

She had expected Yasuo to bet this fight on his superior swordsmanship and remain on the defensive, parrying and countering her attacks wherever he could, knowing that she couldn't escape forever. She was mistaken. This time, he met her dash with his own, his wind-infused katana cutting through her shield like hot butter. Before she knew it she had suffered a devastating wound to her torso. It wasn't deep, but it was painful and impaired her movements. The confrontation was all but decided. She could still fight for a time, and she would. Despite everything, Riven still had far too much to live for to die here. The exile fought on, but her efforts were in vain. A few moments later and she was on her knees, his blade digging ever so slightly into her neck.

"You killed him; admit it!"

"I did not. I have claimed many lives in this war, but your elder was not one!"

"Look at yourself," Taliyah pleaded. "Look at what you're doing! This isn't who you are."

"Enough!" Yasuo shouted back. "I killed my own brother because of her. I will not be denied!"

"And you know it was her? How? What evidence do you have to prove that she killed him?" It didn't seem like she was getting to him, but he didn't interrupt her this time. Perhaps he was willing to listen. "Tell me what you see in front of you."

"A murderer," Yasuo replied.

"A warrior," Taliyah corrected, "A warrior that made a mistake, just like you. A warrior seeking redemption. What would separate you from the councils that would see you dead if you kill her here? What would happen to this 'justice' you used to justify killing your own blood, or the men at the inn earlier that were only doing their jobs? What would you be then but a hypocrite and a murderer?"

Riven winced as Yasuo pressed further into her, drawing a single drop of blood that trailed down her neck. There was a rabid intensity in his gaze, a rage that she had seen drive men to far worse acts than murder. She watched as his incensed eyes scrambled to and fro, desperately searching for an answer to this challenge. In time, his eyes shut, and he drew his blade away from her, granting her a relief like no other she had felt.

"We need to get you to the Freljord," Yasuo called to his companion.

"And what about her?"

"Ionia will decide her fate." The vagabond turned his attention back to the Noxian. "Your wound will not kill you unless it festers. Pray that you are found before it does."

With one swift strike, everything had gone black.

* * *

"Quinn, I don't want you to call me that anymore."

"This is rather sudden. What's this about?"

Ahri took a few paces away from the twins, trying to fade into the forest background. This conversation was theirs and theirs alone, and it had been a long time coming.

"Caleb is dead; he has been for years. Whoever that boy was, he isn't me… not anymore. I am a Noxian, a proud member of house Du Couteau. Everything I am, everything I've achieved would make him sick. I've simply come too far to go back to a life and identity I didn't even know I had until a few months ago. I'm tired of bearing the confusion of hearing that name when someone calls out to me, and I'll have no more of it. Call me Talon, or Bertrand if you must. Just… no more of that. It's driving me insane. That goes for you as well, Ahri."

"Okay, so what about us, then?" Quinn replied. "What's the point of all this if you're just going to throw everything we had away? Should I have just killed you and been done with it?"

Talon took a moment to consider his response. "That depends on you," he began. "You are my sister, and I have nothing against you. If you want, I am willing to continue our friendship as it is. I just want to make it clear that the brother you knew is gone, and he isn't coming back."

The ranger-knight stood silent, letting Talon's words linger in her head. She had expected this, to some extent. Ever since she heard his story in her home, she knew it would be foolish to expect him to come running back to her and her family. Even in discovering the truth of who he was, he wasn't willing to discard the last decade of his life. He had been through too much and come into his own without that knowledge. As nice as it must have been to have answers, it was likely that they burdened him more than the questions did. Before, it didn't matter that he didn't know where he came from; he was Talon, and nothing could change that. Now, he wasn't just Talon. He was Demacian, he was beholden to family, and he had to adhere to expectations meant for someone he didn't remember being. All it brought was conflict, and he was smart enough to know that it had to come to an end.

"I know," Quinn answered, "I've always known. I've actually been waiting for you to make up your mind for a little while now. Ever since you found me, I've wondered what you would choose. I can't say I think you made the right choice, but I'm glad you finally made one… I'm calling you Bertrand though. I'll be damned if I ever call my own brother by that stupid name again." If Valor were here, he would have approved of her jab toward her brother, but the eagle was off scouting the path ahead.

"As you wish. And you, Ahri?"

"Hmm? What about me?" she asked.

"Do you understand me?"

"Of course. Shall we move on, then Talon? We have a stone weaver waiting for us."

The next few hours of travel passed in uncomfortable silence, the weight of Talon's admission still hanging heavily over the group. The small village that was their destination was still a ways off, and at their pace, it was looking as though they were not going to arrive until deep into the night. All of them expected this silence to continue for the remainder of their trip, but then a single thought crept its way into Quinn's mind.

"Ahri?"

"Yes?" the Vastayan girl answered, somewhat startled from the sudden break in silence.

"What are you going to do once Bertrand finds this Taliyah girl? Will you leave him?"

"I… I haven't really thought about it. I guess I would set out on my own again."

"Would you go back to Tevasa?" Talon asked. In truth, he had long wondered the same thing, though he would never admit it out loud.

"No, I could never go back there. Even if I'm beyond watching and waiting without the courage to introduce myself, I couldn't live in that remote village. Thanks to you two, I now know too much of the world to settle in such a small and insignificant corner of it. I think—I think I'd like to finish my transformation first. Lingering in between like this has brought me nothing but trouble. I don't know where I'd find the prey, but it has to be my first step."

"Have you considered seeking help from the mages of the Placidium?" Quinn suggested. "Even if they can't help you, I'm sure they'd love to know a little bit more about Vastayan magic."

"There is no 'Vastayan magic', only magic", Ahri replied. "And no, I haven't considered it. I hadn't considered cooperating with humans in at all until fairly recently."

"Well you should," Quinn answered. "The greatest minds in all of Ionia gather there in the pursuit of knowledge and self-betterment."

"That's nice, but there may not even _be_ a Placidium by the end of this war," Ahri said.

"You don't really think they'll destroy the Placidium, do you?" Quinn asked.

"Most likely not," Talon interjected. "Noxus prides itself on adopting the best of the people it conquers. If it isn't destroyed in the siege, they will maintain it and change the fabric of Noxian society based on the knowledge they find there. Noxian understanding of magic is at a standstill since the rebellion; I promise that whatever happens, the Placidium will be treated with the upmost care."

"But would I be welcome in a Noxian Placidium?" Ahri asked.

"If worst comes to worst, strength is always welcomed in Noxus, whatever its form," Talon said. "The doors of Du Couteau manor will open for you so long as I live."

"Thank you, Talon; I appreciate the thought. Though I'm not sure what strength I would have to offer Noxus. I am quick, and I have killed many, but I am no battle-dancer. It wouldn't take someone even half as skilled as Rakan to make me look like a child playing at combat."

"Rakan?" Talon asked.

"A famed battle-dancer," she explained. "Nearly everyone in Ionia has at least heard of him."

"He's that good?"

"He is. I don't think you could beat him. They say he is the greatest battle-dancer in the Lhotlan tribe's history."

"Huh… It never ends does it?" Talon muttered under his breath.

"What doesn't?" Ahri asked, her superior hearing picking up his question as if it were spoken like any other sentence.

"Ionia's mysteries," he replied. "There hasn't been a single day since I've been here that I haven't discovered something new and beyond my power to control. Every step you take, there's some new magical being or ancient secret ready to blink you out of existence without breaking a sweat."

"It does seem that way doesn't it," Quinn said. "It's almost as if all the mystical power in the world decided to gather in one place. I used to think that all I needed was Valor and my crossbow, and I could take on the world. I never knew how wrong I was until I came here."

"Oh please," Ahri said. "If you think Rakan is scary, you should wait until you see what the warriors of the Kinkou can do. You would die before you even knew they were there. Even your father would be hard-pressed to survive an encounter with one." The Vastayan girl turned back to face the twins, a teasing smile pulling at her lips, but she soon realized her play had gone a little too far. Both of their gazes were out of focus, as if they were imagining their dooms at the hands of otherworldly powers. "Are you guys okay?"

"I'm fine," Talon answered. "I just wish Noxus Prime was built of Petrycite like Demacia. I would feel a lot safer."

"You're surprisingly worried for someone who's going to kick up a storm here in Ionia," Ahri said. "Regardless of who emerges this war victorious, disrupting the balance in Ionia will only allow more openings for the truly reprehensible to grow bold."

"What do you mean? More murderers like Khada Jhin?" Quinn asked.

"That would be the least of it, I think. Magic breathes in Ionia like no other place in the world. It is not uncommon for terrible people to come into great power, or for such power to turn ordinary people into monsters. How long do you think it would take your empire to truly control these lands, Talon?"

"Even if we take the Placidium, we will only have a military presence in Shon-Xan, Zhyun, and Navori. Two thirds of the island will still be out of our reach. If you consider the time it would take to establish a new government and properly create and deploy peacekeeping and law enforcement forces across the island, I would say half a decade, maybe more."

"That is five years Ionia will have to churn in its own state of unbalance. Who knows what factions will rise up against you. How will your empire deal with them? Does it even have a plan to negotiate with groups that already exist like the Kinkou and the Vastaya tribes?"

"It does not."

"You see? Noxus's war will not end with Ionia. You should be prepared for what comes next."

"And how would you propose we deal with it?" Quinn asked.

"I don't know. Neither of you are gifted with magic so there isn't much you _can_ do. How funny that Demacia is actually better equipped to hold Ionia than Noxus."

"So, what will you do?" Talon asked again. "You can't seek refuge among the Vastaya tribes, and the rest of Ionia will descend into chaos in a matter of time."

"I can't say for sure. If it really does come down to it, maybe I actually will seek you out. It's not my first choice, but I'd rather live in a lord's manor than a warzone. Maybe I could even come to like Noxus in a few hundred years."

Not a moment later, an eagle's cry rang throughout the forest. Valor had returned early, and he had news. The party turned to Quinn, awaiting an explanation.

The ranger-knight waited for her companion's series of calls to end before communicating the message to the group. "Someone's fighting near the village," she said. "No one he knows."

Ahri perked up her ears, focusing her attention on the distant background. "I hear them, barely. They're far… a couple miles at least. It will be long over by the time we arrive."

"Then we'd best get going," the assassin said. "Lead the way."

* * *

 _It couldn't be_

"Talon?"

 _There was no way_

"Hello?"

"It's her."

Those were the first words he had said in a minute at least. He still didn't believe it himself. He had worked so hard to move on, to move past his grief, and it was all for nothing. All of that progress was reduced to dust with the sight of a tan girl with messy white hair. Even in amidst the darkness of an Ionian night, he could recognize her instantly. He almost wished he couldn't. One look, and he was undone; one look, and he _felt_ again. How far he had fallen.

"Who's 'her'?" Quinn asked.

"It's Riven," Ahri answered in his place. "She looks just like she did in your memories."

" _This_ is her? How? I thought you said she was dead."

"She had to be," Talon said. "No one can survive that gas."

"She did," Ahri stated, gesturing to the exile's in-tact body. "She survived whatever left her like this, too. What do you think happened?"

"It doesn't matter," Talon replied. "We need to take her someplace safe so she can recover. Someone help me put her on my back."

Riven may have resented her small stature, but Talon was never more grateful for it. It put her at a disadvantage in battle, but it also meant he could carry her on his own. Disadvantage or no, there weren't many people Talon could think of that could defeat Riven in combat, let alone have the margin of skill to beat her without killing her. Whoever she fought here, they were of the highest caliber of fighter. He found it strange that she was left unconscious on the outskirts of town. Whoever left her here clearly didn't want to kill her, but at the same time couldn't be bothered to take her to someone who could care for her. Just who was this mystery fighter? Perhaps his worrying was pointless. Whoever it was, he could find out when she woke up.

A brief but labored walk to the nearby village led the group to an inn, of which Riven was apparently already a patron. The innkeeper was an older woman, one who was clearly quite fond of her. Without wasting a moment to question why the exile's unconscious body was being carried by one of the most thoroughly armed men in all of Ionia, she led them to Riven's room, where Quinn and Valor were to keep close watch over her until she awoke. Ahri and Talon remained in the communal area, silently succumbing to the ravenous gnaw of anticipation. Just over an hour passed before Ahri finally broke the silence.

"You seem nervous. Why?"

Talon didn't respond for a time, wanting the silence to last just a little bit longer.

"Should I ask again?"

The assassin sighed, realizing now that he would have to answer the girl, lest she pester him forever. "I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean?" Ahri asked. "There's nothing _to_ do. We just wait for her to wake up."

"That's not what I meant," the assassin explained. "I just… I'm a mess."

The Vastayan girl didn't need to read his mind to tell that much. Though it was hard to see underneath his blue cloak, the man was shivering. His eyes betrayed the panic he was feeling. His psyche was likely in tatters, torn between confusion, excitement, worry, and all manner of other emotions. At this rate, he would ruin himself before the girl even woke up.

"Shall I calm you?" she proposed.

"What exactly does that entail?" he asked in response.

"I would use magic to… never mind." A more conventional approach was called for here. Perhaps helping him focus on the positives of the situation would be of use. "You must be overjoyed. You got your Riven back. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you as well."

"I'm not too sure about that," he replied.

"Oh? What makes you say that?"

"As far as I know, she never returned to my father. In fact, given the way she's dressed, I'd say she deserted. She's on the run. Crossing paths with any Noxian, even me… _especially_ me, is likely the last thing she wanted to do."

"Well I'm sure she'll be fine once you tell her we won't report her. We aren't reporting her, right?"

"Like I said, I'm not sure. The Riven I know would rather die than do something as dishonorable as deserting. I have no doubt that battle changed her. That's probably why I'm so uneasy: I have no idea who will be walking out of that room. For all I know, even with all we've been through, we could be starting at square one all over again."

As if on queue, a nearby door creaked open, and Talon's nearly stopped. A lone figure crossed the threshold: a short, white haired young woman with confusion written all over her face. Her eyes scanned the room, coming to an immediate halt as they fixated on a single person. Tall, long brown hair, amber eyes, and a nigh unreadable expression… it had to be him.

"Talon…?"

* * *

 **A/N: You know you've been away for too long when you forget to edit line breaks into your draft. I apologize to whoever had to experience that atrocity. Time to shake off the dust and get back to work. Expect chapter 16 within a few days.**


	16. Chapter 16

"Are you okay?" Talon asked. "I would say it's unwise to move around with a wound like that, but I think we already covered that in your training."

"Yeah… I'm fine." Riven slowly approached Talon's table, visibly wary of the demihuman sitting next to him. "You found me."

"I wasn't trying to," the assassin explained. "I was told you were dead."

"I should be." Riven pulled out a chair and hovered next to it, refusing to sit down just yet. "Who's this?" she asked, pensively motioning toward Ahri.

"I am Ahri," the fox girl answered. "I'm Talon's guide."

"She's a friend," Talon said. "You don't have to worry."

The exile scoffed. "Oh I'm not worried about her; she seems harmless enough. I'm more concerned about the Demacian and the giant bird that looked like it wanted to eat me. Not exactly the most comfortable thing for a Noxian city girl to wake up to."

"That's Quinn."

"She said as much. She's the ranger you went after in Demacia. Why is she here? She almost killed you."

" _I_ ," the ranger began, emerging from Riven's room, "have been tasked with the surveillance of the assassin known as Talon, and the prevention of any and all interference with the Demacian war effort that he may attempt."

"Okay, so why are _you_ still alive? You should have been dealt with."

"She's my sister," Talon explained. "She wouldn't leave, so I allowed her to accompany us. I'm not on a particularly sensitive mission at the moment, so I saw no harm in it."

"Your sister?" she asked incredulously.

"My twin, actually. We were separated by an accident when we were young. Next thing you know, I'm in the Noxian alleyways, stealing and killing my way to infamy."

"Don't worry," Quinn began, "He's still Noxian, through and through. He was especially clear about that."

"You'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it," Riven said. "Perhaps we could step outside, Talon? I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and I'd rather we be alone when I give you the answers. Maybe after that's settled, you can properly introduce me to your little group here."

Without a word, the assassin rose from his seat and made for the door, the exile close behind him. He stopped almost immediately after crossing the threshold, closing the door behind Riven. It was still very dark out, but he didn't care to search for a light source. He would waste no more time than was needed.

"Where have you been?" Talon asked. "Why didn't you come back?"

"Do you know what happened?" Riven asked. "I'm sure you have an idea, but do you know the specifics?"

"I don't know… You were moving through Zhyun when you were ambushed and cut off from the main force. Marcus couldn't save you, so he decided to take the Ionians down, too. Is there something I missed?"

"No you have the gist of it," Riven explained. It was evident in her voice that recalling the event pained her. " _Your father_ ordered my death, and the deaths of all those that were with me. I practically worshipped that man, Talon. He was like a hero to me. To have him spit in the face of all that Noxus stands for… I couldn't take it."

She paused for a moment, rage building within her as she searched for her next words. "You know, just days before, I had confronted him about that very subject. I told him what you always told me: that Noxian honor was a lie. Do you know what he did? He lied. He lied right to my face. He lied so that I would keep turning like a gear in his war machine. The night of the battle, circumstance saw that I had a chance to escape, and I did. But after that... I had already killed so many. I couldn't go back to being a pawn in some sick murderer's game."

"So you left, and let all of us think you dead."

"I didn't want to leave it all," she explained, her anger quickly giving way to remorse. "I didn't want to leave you, or Katarina, but I had no choice. I was confused, and I needed time to sort myself out."

The assassin held his response as he saw the distress in her face. Talon didn't want to forgive her. He wanted to be upset with her, to tell her that she was wrong for hurting him. He wanted to, but he was better than that. He knew what had happened to her, and when he put his emotions aside, a vital skill of his that he had honed for his entire life, he knew that she was justified. He wouldn't yell; he would look past himself, and deal with the situation like an adult. She deserved that much at least. "So here you are."

"Here I am." The next moments seemed to last a lifetime. Dozens of phrases and conversation paths were stumbling over each other, each suffocating the others. Eventually, she settled on one of the simpler questions floating around her head. "So, what are you doing way up here?"

"I don't know if you remember her, but we're tracking Taliyah, the Shuriman stone weaver I escorted to Noxus Prime on our last day together. She's wanted for desertion."

"I see," Riven said. "Well, you just missed her. She was traveling with a wanted Ionian criminal. He's the one that left me like this."

"Do you happen to know where she's going?"

"I do," the exile replied, "I'm not sure I want to tell you, though. What do you plan on doing with her?"

"Telling her to stay out of Noxus's affairs so I can tell Swain I killed her."

"You're really going to let her go?"

"I am. Hell, if I could have gotten away with killing the emissaries that brought her to Noxus, I would have. She should learn to cultivate her power on her own, not be some nobleman's pet dog."

Riven was somewhat surprised by that. Talon normally wasn't the sentimental type. He never grew attached to his marks; he would simply kill them and be done with it. In this case, however, it seemed like he was more interested in taking away the nobility's toys than following orders. This was a rare case, but not out of character from what she knew of him. "Well, you won't have to worry about that," she explained. "She's on her way to the Freljord. I'm not sure what she's going to do once she gets there, but she should be far out of the reach of the empire."

Talon took a moment to consider this new information. If Riven was right, then she would indeed be out of the empire's sphere of influence. Most of the Freljordian tribes were openly hostile toward Noxus, and the fact that they still exist was a testament to their ability to fight, and even win against the empire. Now, he _could_ follow her, but there would be little to no point in it. The chances of dying while traversing the Freljordian tundra were extremely high, much too high for Talon to risk. He wasn't the only one taking that chance, either. Even if he managed to survive his travels, there was no guarantee Taliyah would. It was incredibly likely that the girl would die on her own long before he ever reached her. In this case, his choice was clear: he would give up his pursuit.

"Are you going after her?"

"No," he replied. "There would be no point. The only reason I was assigned this mission in the first place was because I was deemed unfit to serve by Swain. He sent me on this goose chase with the hopes that I could pull myself together as I traveled."

"Noxus's finest assassin unfit to serve? How is that even possible? What happened?"

" _You_ happened. I learned of your death right after I gave my report on Demacia to High Command. When I heard the news I broke down and lashed out at Mistress LeBlanc."

"That's treason," Riven interrupted. "Are you sure you weren't exiled?"

"Oh no, I won; it isn't treason if I say it isn't. Still, Swain didn't want me in the war if I didn't have my head on straight, so he sent me to investigate the loss of a few dozen troops near a remote village, linking them to the recently escaped Taliyah. I spent the last month wandering around Ionia chasing ghosts while I recovered from your loss, and just as I was starting to get over it, I find you, alive and well. All that work and I'm right back where I started."

"Well, for what it's worth, it's good to see you. I was starting to get lonely, even in my own self-imposed exile."

"You'll only be lonely as long as you avoid coming back," Talon said. "How long do you plan on living like this?"

"Until I find a way to change Noxus. I can't go back to the empire the way it is now, and I definitely can't return to General Du Couteau's command. I have no options but to wait and think."

"'Change Noxus' huh? What exactly does that entail?"

"I want to restore true Noxian values to the empire. Respect for strength, tolerance, and ingenuity built the largest nation in Valoran, and now deceit, corruption, and greed are ripping it to pieces. If it doesn't stop, Noxus tear itself apart from the inside out."

"Has it ever occurred to you that deceit, corruption, and greed _are_ the true Noxian values?"

"They are," Riven said, "but only to a select few. The law protects criminals and fiends so long as they have the right name or enough money and troops to make the authorities think twice about punishing them. It's an abomination of a system that has no place in the modern world."

"And how would you propose to change it?" Talon asked.

Riven was surprised he cared to hear her ideas. She thought for sure that he would dismiss her as naïve or overly idealistic. That was what he always did in the past when they discussed this kind of thing. What was different now? "To be honest, I haven't had a lot of time to think about it. I've been busy collecting bounties to pay for meals. I do have one idea, though."

"And what might that be?"

"Equal application of law to everyone, no matter their standing. Be they a beggar or Jericho Swain himself, everyone would be treated equally when they face trial for their crimes. I think that alone would solve quite a bit of the problems we have in Noxus."

Talon's eyes wandered away from Riven as he considered the consequences of her proposal. It was true that such a system would root out a fair amount of the unsavory activities that occurred within city walls. However, the laws of Noxus as they stood were nigh incompatible with this system. If everyone was convicted of everything they had ever done, Noxus would blink off of the map in an instant.

Quarrels amongst nobility would likely become much less blatant. They would go from assassinations and skirmishes between armies to something more… discreet. Much like in Demacia, espionage and grandstanding would replace violence as the tools of the trade. Social aptitude and cunning would be the means through which one would earn their social currency. Of course, the sabotage and assassinations would still have their place in this new system, but they would become much more valuable. Those that could still manage such bold feats without being caught would be feared above all other houses. That being the case, should Noxus actually adopt such reforms, House Du Couteau would take the ascendant. With Cassiopeia's political acumen backed by Talon and Katarina's skill sets, which would now be more valuable than gold, there would be no one that could stop them.

Now, Talon didn't care much for reformation for the sake of virtue alone. In fact, he couldn't care less. What _did_ matter to him was removing the fools that toyed with the lives of those under them from power. Such people had no place at the head of the empire, and if you asked him, they were a disease that was rotting Noxus from within. Swain and Darius were competent men, but they were also arrogant fools that thought themselves too big to bother seeing the little people they trampled underfoot. They pandered to old and decaying orders like the Black Rose to gain their power, and now that they had it, they were beholden to the whims of deceivers such as Evaine. Noxus had to change course if was to survive.

"You've changed," Talon said, emerging from his deep thought.

"What do you mean?"

"All the time I've known you, you would preach about an empire of ideals that simply didn't exist. Now, here you are, not only acknowledging the challenges our people face, but making an effort to overcome them. You've gone from a dreaming girl to a woman than commands my respect."

"Is that what you thought of me all that time?" Riven asked, "That I was just some dreaming child?"

"Do you disagree?"

"…No. That doesn't mean I'm not insulted, though."

"I'm sure you'll get over it. This cold is starting to get to me; let's head back inside. I'll properly introduce you to the others and fill you in on the finer details of our trip."

Riven remained still, Talon's proposal seemingly falling on deaf ears. The assassin grew increasingly uncomfortable as she stared into his eyes, giving him a look he feared he would come to dread.

"That can wait until tomorrow," Riven eventually said. "I'm exhausted; why don't you help me back to my room?"

* * *

"Are you alright, Irelia? You've been holding that blade for a couple hours now."

The blue-haired woman gently stirred from the sedation of her meditation, turning to see who had spoken. "Karma… I didn't hear you come in."

"I doubt you would have heard the heavens falling. Listen, I know you're trying to focus, but you need to take breaks. Why don't you join me for a meal?"

"Breaks will not prepare me for battle."

"You won't even live to _see_ the battle if you don't eat."

Irelia looked down at the massive blade she held in her lap. It was originally her father's, the culmination of a lifetime of study that would require a master of Hiten to use it to even a fourth of its potential. The core of the weapon was a large red ball, around which four ornate blades hovered. By gripping the core, one could move the four blades with their will alone. The blades themselves could be moved independently of each other, and could be moved in any direction so long as the core served as the axis of their motion. When used to its full potential, this weapon was among the deadliest in the world. However, moving even two blades in separate directions took her years to be able to do efficiently, and she had only managed to move three quite recently. For the sake of the war and her own survival, she wanted to become as proficient with the weapon as she possibly could. At the same time, denying herself sustenance would only harm her health. She had no choice but to oblige.

"Very well," she said, breaking her meditative sitting pose and rising to her feet, "Let's be on our way."

The pair traversed the corridors of the Placidium with Irelia leading the way. The structure itself was an engineering marvel, inspiring awe in even those from more industrialized nations like Noxus and Piltover. Built into a massive natural rock formation, the Placidium served as the cultural and academic heart of Ionia. It was truly the crown jewel forged by centuries of peace and prosperity among the Ionian people. Now, it would serve as a fortress, Ionia's last bastion of hope against the Noxian war machine. Thousands of people had traveled to the Placidium from all over to lend their blade in this final stand. In addition, rumors of Demacian forces arriving at Ionia to help fight the Noxians had been spreading like wildfire. Irelia was grateful for the help, if they were truly to receive it, but she was not happy about the prospect of Demacia claiming that Ionia owed it favors in the aftermath. It seemed she saw enemies no matter where she looked.

"You seem worried," Karma noted.

"I'd be surprised if you found a single person in the entire Placidium that _wasn't_ worried."

"True, but you seem even more worried that most. What troubles you?"

"I worry for my brother, Zelos. I fear he may be dead."

"What makes you think so?" Karma asked.

"If he weren't dead, he would be here, with me," Irelia answered. "That, and the Demacians would have come much sooner. The dire straits we find ourselves in speak only to his failure."

"Then you will be one of thousands of avengers on the field of battle when the time comes. I hope your blade strikes true."

She hadn't known her very long, but Irelia was already quite fond of Karma. Even when they first met as nothing more than roommates, she didn't mince words. She had the respect to avoid feigning sympathy for the death of a man she never met, like so many others would have. Instead, she was collected and direct, an odd pair of qualities to find in a woman so young, even a village mediator. That wasn't to say this all came naturally, though. Even before Irelia came to the Placidium and was told to share a room with her, Karma had been spending hours at a time digging through the Placidium's massive library. She combed through as many academic reports and historical texts as she could, absorbing everything she thought could help their efforts against the imperials.

If there were more people like her in Ionia, they might not be losing this war, but not every village girl is lifted into icon status the way she was. Karma, much like Irelia herself, had the mantle of responsibility thrust upon her long before she was ready. From what she had heard, Karma had summoned powerful magics to kill a Noxian general that was leading an attack on her village. Since then, she had become something of a symbol of Ionian resistance against the invaders, bolstering their morale with displays of her powers in various minor skirmishes. Irelia respected her a great deal for that. Whereas she was a prominent figure for her lineage alone, Karma had already proven her mettle. In a way, she envied the chance to prove one's worth that had been offered to Karma. Irelia would do anything to show that she was worthy of her father's legacy.

"Do you think we can win?" Irelia asked.

"Of course," Karma answered. "If the Protectorate could fell the Magelords, surely we have a chance of victory. Whether or not we _will_ win is another matter. We are outnumbered greatly, and even then, most of our soldiers are normal people untrained for a battle of this scale. Our only hope is to fight and pray we live to see the end."

"Protectorate and Magelords? More tales from the library?"

"Not tales, history," Karma corrected. "They were warring factions as old as the first of our records. The Magelords had withered the Protectorate's war effort to one last stand, from which the Protectorate turned the entire war around."

"We should be so lucky," Irelia said. "Still, you killed a general and their forces broke. All we have to do is replicate that feat, and we could win the day."

"It won't be that simple, Irelia. That general thought he was riding upon a defenseless village. The Noxians coming for us now are ready for magic, and they are led by men far fiercer than he. Many great names march under Noxus's banners. Do you think to challenge General Du Couteau, the leader of the vanguard army? Perhaps his subordinate Cyrus Emystan, the man who gassed his way into the heart of Navori, will be a match for you? Maybe you will claim the head of the Hand of Noxus himself, Lord Darius, or his little brother, Draven? If they're all too strong, maybe you can best the Lady Quilletta Varn? Though, even then, I think it's a little bit of a tall order."

"What's your point?"

"All of the names I listed belong to Noxians that could tear nearly anyone in our army into pieces, and all of them carry enough weight to rally their men should the others die. If you charge into the battlefield challenging them on bravado alone, there will be no victory for you, only death. You must temper your aggression with calm and measured intent. Balance is the way of Ionia, and it is the only way we will win this battle."

"An awfully insightful lecture… you sound like an elder. Tell me, how did a village girl come to learn so much about the Noxian forces? More reading?"

"Ionia has no need for more village girls," Karma replied. "What we need to get through this war are strong, knowledgeable leaders to guide our people through this darkness."

"And you think to become one?"

"I intend to help, in whatever way I can. If that help comes through leadership, is that really a problem?"

"No, I just think it's a bit presumptuous," Irelia stated. "What's wrong with the leaders we already have? Their ways have guided us through thousands of years."

"Thousands of years and no further," Karma said. "'What's wrong?' Look around you, Irelia. The very fate of our very people depends on the outcome of a battle we can't win. What's wrong is that the war got this bad in the first place. Our elders are virtuous people, make no mistake, but virtue alone won't keep Noxian steel from piercing our hearts. This invasion has forcibly dragged Ionia into a new age in which we must strive for peace, and be prepared to defend that peace with war. The old way has failed us, forced us into a corner in which all our lives hinge on a near impossibility. Noxus has given us a choice, Irelia: evolve or die. I don't know about you, or the rest of the people here at the Placidium, but I do not intend to watch thousands of years of our predecessors' work fade into oblivion all for the sake of the elders' misguided philosophies."

Conflicting feelings swirled within the Hiten master's heart. Karma's willingness to throw away everything their people had ever stood for made her boil with rage, yet she was _right_. Ionia had lost this war because of its refusal take up arms for fear of forsaking their virtues. They were noble intentions, but what good are the virtues of dead men? Ionia had been awakened to the truth of the world: there were giants beyond the sea, giants willing to take everything they could and destroy whoever would try to stop them. If they made it through this, Ionia could not continue the way it did and expect to survive. Things had to change. She didn't know how, but perhaps Karma was on to something. It was foolish to just stand by and wait for the elders to change their ways, or for new elders to take their place. If Ionia lacked the leadership it needed, the only option was to become the leader that was needed oneself.

"Do me a favor, Irelia?" Karma asked.

"What do you need?"

"When the battle comes, prove me wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"I want you to beat them. Every last name I gave you… I want you to defeat them all."

The Hiten master couldn't help but chuckle at the astronomical expectations she was being held to. "I'll try, but I'm not sure those expectations are entirely realistic. I'm only me."

Karma cracked a sly smile. "You might not think you can, but timeless heroes are born in battles like the one that waits for us. You may only know the Irelia that still struggles to master her father's blade, but history may soon know the Irelia that half a dozen of Noxus's finest couldn't fell."

"You know," Irelia said, "for a moment there, you had me believing I could actually do it. Mind that silver tongue or you just might inspire a man to walk to his own death."

Karma accepted the compliment with a faint, solemn smile. "Isn't that what all great leaders do?"

* * *

"As I recall, the last time we were left to our own devices in a room like this, things got… out of hand."

Talon recalled the last night they had spent together before his departure to Demacia. It was one of the better nights of his life, but still one he ultimately regretted. Their intimacy had clearly driven a wedge between them the following morning, a wedge that could still be felt now. "This was your intent, then? To discuss 'us'?"

The exile slowly lowered herself onto her bed, careful not to agitate her injury. "Would you prefer to dance around the subject forever? Would you like it to be this awkward between us even when we're old and gray?"

"No, I just didn't think it was that important."

Riven gave her mentor a disapproving look. "Well, you _are_ important to me. _We_ are important to me."

"Then I don't see what the problem is," he replied. "Come back to Noxus, and we can carry on just as we promised we would."

"It's not that simple and you know it."

"It can be. Why are you insisting that it isn't?"

"I've changed, Talon. We don't even know if we'd still love each other as we are now."

It hadn't crossed the assassin's mind to reassess his feelings for Riven. Where did their relationship stand after all of this? Did she even still love him? Did he still love her? He did, or at least he thought he did. He definitely felt _something_ when he looked across the room to his old companion, but it was much different than before. _She_ was much different than before. The old Riven was lively, naively idealistic, and emanated youthful vibrancy. The Riven that sat before him was calm, wizened, and exuded the confidence of a seasoned, mature woman. It was as if a fragile bud had bloomed into a beautiful flower in his absence. Even if it evoked a sense of melancholy from those who beheld it, Talon much preferred the flower. To him, the only question was whether the wild flower wished to return to its garden.

"I still love you."

"How could you possibly know that?" Riven challenged. "We've scarcely been together for an hour now."

She had a point. There was very little to base his decision off of. Still, even when he acknowledged this, his feelings did not waver. "I've made harder decisions in less time, I assure you."

"Love isn't a difficult decision to you?" she asked incredulously.

" _You_ aren't a difficult decision at all."

Riven turned away from the man in a futile attempt to hide her blush. "You don't care that I've changed?"

"We get along a little better, that's all. I'll admit it's a bit troubling to find myself agreeing with you, but I'll get over it. Working past your problems is part of being in a relationship, after all."

She couldn't believe he was making light of this situation. He was certain of his decision, if nothing else. "You're an idiot."

"That's fair," Talon said. "Now, is the idiot getting his own room or staying with you?"

"You should get your own room," Riven answered. "I don't think this bed is big enough to share without you accidentally hitting my cut."

"Very well. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Talon."

"Goodnight."

* * *

 **A/N: I can't think of an author's note, so just take this sentence instead.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: This chapter is a short boi, but it felt weird to me to do anything else with it. We should have big boi chapters for the rest of the story. thanks for reading.**

* * *

Talon shut the door to Riven's room, bringing a close to his first encounter with her since their reunion. It was hard to tell where exactly he stood with his old colleague, but he was sure of one thing: there was a chance to salvage their relationship. He didn't know what it would take, but there was little he wouldn't sacrifice to stay close to one of the only people to ever matter to him. Even if they could reconcile, he still had to find a way to bring her back to Noxus. Riven's ideas for reform would be impossible to implement without her. She was an idol of the common people, a paragon of Noxian values. If house Du Couteau tried to implement these changes without her and pulled the rug out from under the powers that be, they would be systematically weakened and eliminated. What could he do to convince her?

"Is there a reason you're standing out here all alone?"

Talon immediately recognized the voice as Ahri's and turned to face his companion. "Not really," he answered. "I was just about to go get myself a room."

"There's no need to spend your money like that. You can stay with me."

The assassin was put on his back foot by this offer. She had made it clear she wasn't interested in romance at this stage of her life many times over, so he knew there wouldn't be and precarious activities occurring, but would Riven see it that way? He had only just found her again, how could he be so reckless as to share a bed with another woman? "I'm going to have to refuse." The Noxian moved to pass the Vastayan girl, but was stopped in his tracks.

"Please?" Ahri pleaded, placing herself in front of him once again.

"Why are you being so persistent?"

"I need to talk to someone," she answered. "You're all I've got, so it has to be you."

"Talk about what?" Talon pressed.

The fox girl tugged on the sleeves of his cloak, pulling him down the hallway. "Just come on. I'm not going to explain this whole thing to you outside of someone else's room."

The walk to Ahri's room was chaotic, but ultimately short. She was only staying a few doors down, so they reached it in only a couple of heavily contested steps. Before Talon could truly wrap his head around the situation, the wooden door had shut behind him, and was caught in a predicament he scarcely understood. What was she so desperate to talk about? Ahri's mannerisms weren't giving him much of anything to go off of. He could only wait and see.

"So, what is it that you want?"

Ahri sat down on the only bed in the room, patting an empty spot next to her and inviting him to join her. "I said I want to talk, didn't I?"

Talon slowly made his way over to her bed, opting to stand a few feet in front of her. "I'm not sleeping with you."

"I know you don't want to, but this is probably going to take a while. I don't really take you as the kind of person that would wake up a sleeping innkeeper, so I'm offering to share my bed for the night."

She was right, or at least, he thought she was. It really depended on this conversation. "Well? What's on your mind?"

"It's about what Quinn said when we were still on our way here. She recommended that I go to the Placidium to see if I could get help. It's good advice, but I want to know what _you_ think I should do."

Talon raised an eyebrow at her request. It was strange to him that she would seek help in her pursuit of a moral life from an assassin, but perhaps it was simply an indicator of how much their friendship meant to her. "Why ask me? You and I both know I don't know the life you seek is foreign to me. I can't help you reach it."

"I'm asking you because you're just like me," she explained. "You could have chosen to turn away from the lifestyle we shared, but you didn't. You chose Talon over Caleb; you've fully embraced who you are. Now, as someone who understands me, I want to know if you really think I can do it." She hoped he understood where she was coming from. Quinn meant well, but she could not understand the guilt that she carried with her. Ahri felt as though she didn't deserve to be helped after all she had done, not until she had atoned. But what manner of atonement could possibly equate to the weight of the countless innocent lives she had taken? In her eyes, she was beyond redemption; even a Vastayan lifetime of penance would not be enough. Perhaps if someone like him thought there was hope for her, there was just the smallest possibility that she was wrong. If that was true, and her good intentions were potentially worth some modicum of forgiveness, maybe she could bear living a life she didn't deserve.

"What's this about? Guilt?"

Ahri nodded.

Talon sighed as he fully grasped the reason she had brought him here. It had been ages since he had heard that word, and much longer since it even crossed his mind. "Look, they're dead, and you're alive; nothing you do is going to change that. What you _can_ do is make sure you never take another innocent life again. I don't know how you can do that, but the Placidium would be a good first step if it's still standing at the end of this war."

It didn't take the man much to see that he wasn't getting through to her. If it were that easy to change one's own philosiphies, she wouldn't have needed his help in the first place. It didn't suit him at all, but he would have to take a different approach than he normally would. Despite the similarities in the lives they lived, he and Ahri were fundamentally different when it came to morality. She killed, but she did so while unable to feel remorse. Her being was not forged by the ceaseless and uncaring brutality of the Noxian under cities. She had never learned to cast aside her sympathies, or to prioritize herself above all others. She still cared.

Finally investing himself fully into helping his friend, he slowly walked over to her bed and sat down beside her. He wasn't accustomed to this kind of platonic intimacy, but he would do his best for this girl. He hadn't known her for long by most people's standards, but like Riven, she had become one of the few people that truly mattered to him.

"You went digging through my memories, didn't you?" he asked. Ahri nodded, a hint of shame evident in her posture. "Does the name Kavyn ring any bells?"

"A little bit… it's fuzzy."

Talon took a deep breath, doing his best to recall his most distant memories of his life in Noxus. "When I was homeless, I had no choice but to take what I needed. Everything that ever passed into my hands was stolen from those who either didn't need it or were too stupid to keep it. I was quick, deft, and as silent as the grave, but ultimately, I was still a child. My skills could only get me so far when pit against the wit of keen shopkeepers and well-trained guards who wanted nothing more than to relieve the stress of their day by dragging nobodies like me into an ally and beating us within an inch of our lives. If I was to survive, I needed help."

"And that's where Kavyn came in?"

The assassin nodded. "Kavyn was my family. He gave me the name I used for most of my life, and with his help, I stayed alive. Over time, though, my skills continued to grow, and it became evident that Kavyn's spontaneity and recklessness would inevitably get us both killed. On one job in particular, he abandoned our plan to steal something else that caught his eye, leaving me to fend for myself."

Talon paused for a brief moment, drawing the curiosity of the Vastayan girl. His eyes were distant and cold, as though he was completely immersed in the story of his past. It was clear that the emotions of that memory were slowly returning to him. To her, his face told a much more vivid story than his words. Through his expression, she could see everything that he felt that day: fear, anxiety, desperation, frustration… and enough rage to drive a man to kill.

"What happened then?"

"I narrowly escaped with my life," he answered. "And when I found Kavyn, I took one of the pretty little knives he risked my life to steal and drove it into his throat." Bringing himself back to the present, the assassin reached into his cloak and pulled out the very same daggers of which he spoke, handing them to Ahri.

The fox girl turned them around in her hands, examining them closely. "They aren't as nice as the rest of the ones you showed me," she observed. "Did they wear with time?"

"No," he answered, "I've kept them just as they were when Kavyn took them."

"He would have traded your life for _these?"_ Ahri asked as she handed the daggers back to Talon, now understanding how Talon had come to be who he was. She was grateful that he would trust her with that story, but she didn't see the purpose behind it. He killed a man that would have gotten them both killed if he didn't. How was that supposed to help her?

"I'm sure he didn't see it like that, but yes," he said, tucking the blades back into his cloak.

"I really appreciate that you would trust me with that story, but I'm really not seeing what I'm supposed to take away from it."

"You don't?"

Ahri shook her head.

"Well, I'll lay it out for you then. My story began with an act of undisputable cruelty. I murdered the boy that I owed my life to, my only friend, for nothing but my own convenience. Since then, I forged my own path, becoming one of the most feared names in the Noxian underground. I was successful enough to draw the attention of and be adopted into one of the most powerful houses in the empire. I did all of this without regret or remorse, even though I deserved none of it. I saw what I had… who I was… and I decided I wanted better. I wanted better circumstances, a better life, and a better me. I let that sin carry me forward into a future of my own choosing. If that boy saw himself in the mirror, he wouldn't be able to hold his own gaze. Now, I see someone who made the best of what he had, and someone who's now worth all that he had.

"I'm not sure I understand," Ahri said.

"Listen," he began, "everyone on the planet could line up outside this building and forgive you one at a time, and none of it would matter if you never came to forgive yourself." He allowed her time to envision the situation, and truly take in his meaning. "I'm not saying the guilt will go away, it never will, but you can choose how to deal with it. You can turn away from it and be suffocated under its weight, or you can accept it, embrace it, learn from it, and let it drive you to become better than you have ever been. No one needs permission to become a better person."

A long, uncomfortable pause followed Talon's advice. He couldn't see Ahri's face, but something in the air between them told him she was beginning to accept his words. She stayed silent, her body gradually relaxing as she slowly embraced the liberty that came with this forgiveness.

"I think," she said, leaning her head onto Talon's shoulder, "I think you might be right." Before long, she felt the faintest of smiles pulling at her lips. "It's so strange…"

"What is?"

"I feel like I'm floating," she answered. "I… I can't remember the last time I felt this happy."

A man like Talon would grow old and die before he could find a response appropriate for this situation, so instead of speaking, he simply stayed there, letting Ahri find comfort in his company for as long as she needed. They stayed like that for a time, just two kindred spirits emerging into the next chapter of their respective stories. The last thing Talon would remember from that night was a sweet scent in the air and the ease with which he slipped into the most comfortable rest he ever had.

(LINE BREAK)

The brown-haired assassin woke up to the heat of beams of the dawn sun shining directly onto his face. He got up and moved to draw the room's curtains with greater speed than he needed to kill most men. What little remained of the night after yesterday's escapades had quickly faded to morning, leaving Talon tired, disoriented, and irritable. There was a nearly endless list of words he could use to describe himself in this moment, but the one that stood out to him the most was "alone". When he turned back to the bed he awoke in, he found that it was empty. Ahri was nowhere to be seen.

There were a number of things that could explain away this occurrence. She could have gotten up early to eat breakfast, she could be outside playing with Valor, or she could have simply left to answer a call of nature. The rationales for her absence were endless, but deep down, Talon knew that none of them were correct. An air of finality hung over the room, a finality that told him that he and the Vastayan girl would likely never cross paths again. He expected this to some degree; her eagerness to determine where she should go once she left him had been on the rise ever since Quinn had found him. In travelling with his sister, and now Riven, he may have unintentionally expedited her departure. She was a surprisingly sentimental person, and it was easy to see her feeling like she had no place detracting attention away from love and family. She was a newcomer, and perhaps in her mind, an inconvenience to those closer to him. Knowing her, Ahri probably thought she was doing him a favor of some kind.

It was strange… the time he spent with her already felt like a fleeting dream. The way he ached was much different than when he thought he had lost Riven. He would miss her, of that he was sure, but there was no sorrow, no anger. She had not been betrayed and robbed of life the way Riven was, she was moving forward for the first time in… well, who knew? He certainly didn't. Whatever the case, he was happy to have been a part of her journey, and that she was a part of his. With luck, she just might find some peace in this world.

That was what he wanted at least, but peace was still a long way off for this land. In fact, in the south, this continent was about to see the bloodiest battle in the entirety of its history.


	18. Chapter 18

"There they are."

Irelia could scarcely believe her eyes. Marching with the sound of a thousand thunderstorms and the fluidity of an endless black sea, the Noxian army was finally upon them. From the high walls of the Placidium, once could see almost all of Navori, and as such, all of the invasion force. There had to be thousands… tens of thousands even. There were so many, and yet even with her spyglass, she could barely make out a single individual. There was no uniformity among them whatsoever. Some soldiers wore nothing but cloth, wielding exotic weapons that she had never seen before. Others in their ranks were clad head to toe in jagged black armor, taking on the image of demons to their foes. Others still wore heavy furs suited to the cold of the Freljord, a near eternal enemy of the Noxian Empire, or so Karma had told her.

So this is what happened when a civilization was consumed by the imperial war machine; they became one of many, a part of a much greater whole. She detested the empire with all of her being, but now, standing in awe at the legions before her, Irelia finally understood. She understood the core of the creature that sought to devour the world. She could see in the countless cultures and peoples that made up this force a destiny greater than any of them could achieve alone, and for a moment, she wanted nothing more than for Ionia to be able to join them in that existence. To be united and equal with everyone else that was… what greater fate could one be called to?

"Can you see who leads them?" Karma asked.

Irelia shook herself out of her trance and snapped back to the reality of the situation. These people, this army large enough to be its own nation, they were here to kill her. They would rape, pillage, and murder all that they saw fit should they win the day. Irelia had a duty to her people to stop them.

"How would I be able to tell?"

"The banners," Karma clarified, pointing to her most recent book. "The soldiers bear banners to identify which lord or general they are sworn to. It helps to keep them organized. If you can describe the banner to me, I might be able to find the corresponding noble house in these records."

"I see. So how would I tell which one's the leader?"

"You… can't, really." Karma stood motionless with a dejected look for a few moments before speaking up again. "Perhaps you can tell me which ones are in the front? If we can't find out who their commander is, we could at least figure out which of their prominent names we can expect to face on the front."

The Hiten master scanned the Noxian forces, doing her best to identify different patterns on the flags that dotted their ranks. "I can't see very well, but it looks like the ones in the front are all flying the same banner," she observed.

"The same one?" Karma asked, "Can you describe it for me?"

Irelia focused her spyglass onto one of the closest banners she could find. "It's red, with a pair of crossed daggers underneath the crest of Noxus."

Karma flipped through her books pages, eventually coming to a stop when she found a symbol that matched her friend's description. "Oh."

"What? Is that bad?"

"About as bad as it can get," Karma answered. "The current bearer of that symbol is-"

* * *

"General Du Couteau, how much longer do we have to wait? If you're going to take this long, my brother and I could just storm the place and be done with it."

The red-haired assassin kept his focus on the diagram of the Placidium's interior, meticulously planning troop deployments and analyzing key structural features. "You should at least announce yourself before you barge into someone's tent and start complaining, Draven. Some might see it as… untoward."

The executioner scowled at the blade master's response. There were plenty of hotheads in Noxus that would talk down to someone from the streets like him, but Draven usually got past it knowing that he could easily kill all of them. All of them but _him_. As executioner of the arena, Draven had seen great warriors from all over the world, but none of them held a candle to Marcus Du Couteau. Now would be the only time he would have to reel himself in, if not out of respect, then out of fear.

"Right. My brother wants to know how much longer we're supposed wait. Some of us don't really like wasting time."

"Then I don't see the problem," Marcus retorted. "Ensuring our preparations are finalized is hardly a waste of time. Even with a structure as poorly suited to siege defense as the Placidium, it is best we take as few risks as possible. Your brother understands this, I'm sure."

Draven spit on the floor in offense of the General's patronizing tone. "Do you really think I don't know how battles work old man? I'm just telling you to hurry up. Not all Noxians need to waste away staring at diagrams to crack skulls."

The general pulled himself away from his charts and stared the brash man directly in his eyes. "You know, Executioner, I can think of at least ten people garrisoned in that structure that could kill a fighter of your caliber without so much as breaking a sweat. If you're really that eager to get this battle started, be my guest; revel in your foolish glory for as long as you can last. Just know that when death finds you, you will face it alone. Hell, I'd even prefer it if you did; seeing your tattooed head spiked on the Placidium's walls would be an effective reminder for the troops to respect the wills of their superiors."

Draven could feel himself nearly crumbling under the oppression of Marcus's emerald glare. Even to one as prideful and boastful as him, there was a ruthless confidence in those eyes that was beyond imagination. Marcus was silently daring him to speak up again, and he could not find it within himself to take that challenge. Many heard the name Marcus Du Couteau and thought of a well cultured, seasoned noble whose swordplay was as peerless as it was elegant. In this moment, Draven knew different. These were the eyes of a monster. Marcus wasn't a man that honed his skills with a blade out of his love for the art, but a killer who became as proficient as possible solely for the sake of his own convenience. Marcus was a man to be feared. Perhaps that was the reason Darius and Swain had yet to try to remove him from High Command.

"If that's all, you should take your leave," the general continued. "If the Hand of Noxus truly values our planning enough to go out of his way to waste my time, I'm sure he can do it personally."

"R-right. I'll just be going then."

Marcus listened intently to his footsteps as he departed. He wasn't stopping; there would be no confrontation today. Before they disappeared, however, another set replaced them. These steps were much lighter, almost silent. Normally this would be alarming to one such as him, but he detected no caution in their rhythm. Whoever this was, they weren't intentionally being difficult to hear, they simply were by nature. There were only two people he knew of that casually walked as though they were sneaking into the Clockwork Vault, and he was expecting only one of them.

"What the hell did he want, Dad?"

"Nothing… literally." Marcus smiled at his eldest child, Katarina. She was a spitting image of him, saved by the feminine grace and beauty of her mother. War was war, and Katarina was already a woman by now, but he preferred to have her by his side nonetheless. "How did the Ionian sea treat you? Not too roughly, I hope."

"I can't complain," she answered. "I heard what happened in Zhyun. How are you holding up?"

Marcus laughed at his daughter's concern. "Goodness Kat, that was over a month ago. Don't tell me you've been distressing yourself over that this whole time."

"Well I knew you were still alive, so it wasn't that bad," she explained. The young woman looked around the general's tent for a brief moment, a hint of confusion riding her expression. "Where's Riven? This is a Crimson Elite meeting, right? Isn't she supposed to be here?"

Her father's face fell as he remembered the sacrifices made at the Zhyun pass. "Riven's gone. She was among the casualties of the gas attack."

"You KILLED her?" Katarina asked in outrage. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?"

" _I_ didn't do anything," Marcus protested. "Those machines are under Emystan's command. Cyrus made the call without consulting me."

The Du Couteau scion's rage quickly subsided, her face straightening and her voice becoming far more controlled. "Where is he? I swear on our house if you don't tell me, I'll gut everyone in this encampment until I find someone who will."

"You will do no such thing. With this many soldiers, we need every competent commander we can get our hands on. Once this is over I'll let you flay him alive if you want, but you will not touch him before we're back on Noxian soil."

"Ionia will be Noxian soil soon enough," Katarina observed.

"…So it will." A silence passed between them as the atmosphere diffused and they both cooled off. There were now three senior members of the Crimson Elite, and only two of them were present. It wouldn't be the first time Talon appeared out of the ether to attend a meeting after having been off on his own for a while, but Marcus hadn't heard a single whisper about his protégé since he left for Demacia. "Will your brother be joining us?"

"He might," Katarina responded. "I can't say for sure."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I heard he had business in Northern Ionia before I made my way down here last week. He could still be up there, or he could only be a few minutes away. At any rate, I'm sure he doesn't know about this meeting, so if he shows up, it will be of his own accord. We'll just have to wait and see."

"I see. Would you mind telling your father how you manage to keep tabs on him so well?"

"It was just luck. One of his favorite contacts in the Bilgewater fleet was kind enough to tell me where I could find him after he made contact with her."

"In that case, we might as well begin the meeting." Marcus brought his daughter's attention to the diagram of the Placidium that he had been analyzing and marking up. "The Ionians are not nearly as accustomed to war as we are, but that doesn't mean they're stupid. We marched close enough to set up an encampment just out of range of most of their mages, archers and siege weaponry completely uncontested. That means that they have no intention of fighting us in the open, where we can exercise the advantage our superior numbers provide. They wish to fight us in the halls and corridors of the Placidium's interior, forcing our soldiers to fight on even ground for as long as they can hold out. If we want to break this army, we will first need to break the Placidium itself."

"How do you mean?"

"Ordinarily, we would have to weather a storm of arrows, magic, and all manner of horrors for days on end just to get inside the front door. By the time we did that and the real battle started, our men would be demoralized and exhausted. The vanguard force would be the first fall in this battle."

"So that's why I saw so many Du Couteau banners on the front lines," Katarina recalled. "Those rats made _us_ the vanguard force."

"As expected of my heir; you pick up quickly," Marcus noted. "Noxus will inevitably win this battle, but with this approach, House Du Couteau's fighting force will be crippled, and we would be extremely vulnerable to unsavory political maneuvering from our rivals once we return to the empire. This is why I need you, Kat," he said, pointing to various markings on the exterior of the Placidium in the diagram. While our forces begin the siege as mentioned before, a Crimson Elite led infiltration force will gain entry to the fortress through one of these points and secure the controls for the main gate. Our men's lives will be on the line during this diversion, so time is of the essence. If you fail, the battle will play out just like I told you, and our family will eventually be removed from its seat of power. House Du Couteau's future rides on your shoulders, Katarina. Are you up to it?"

Katarina took a few minutes to look at the map and visualize the mission in her head. "I'll need three good men… or just Talon, if he shows. Is there anyone you want me to take out while I'm on the inside?"

"There are a few. Firstly, a woman named Karma killed one of our generals some time ago. I don't know what she looks like, but I've heard exceptionally little in regards to her aside from this incident. I don't believe she's very well trained, so she may not pose as much of a threat as the younger Crownguard in terms of combat magic, but you should still be wary. Her raw magical strength was enough to kill a man with a single blow; I don't want you sharing his fate."

"Understood. Who else?"

"A particularly gifted Hirana monk called Lee Sin is among their forces. This man is the epitome of transferring Ionian spiritual values into physical prowess. Should you face him, expect to be outmatched in direct combat. He is blind, so you will have to deceive his other senses to create an opportunity to kill him."

"I see."

"These last two I would consider the greatest threats; make sure you listen very carefully to this information." The general waited for an acknowledgement from his daughter before continuing. "Are you aware of the Spirit Walkers of the Freljord?"

"Yes, you covered them in my lessons when I was young. What? Is one of them here?"

Marcus nodded. "His name is Udyr. If you cannot kill him before he notices you, avoid him at all costs. You will not be able to handle his magics."

"Do you doubt my skill this much?"

"Not your skill, your experience. No Demacian infuses magic into their bodies and fights the way he does. Without even having seen him fight, the chances of you making a fatal mistake are simply too high for you to risk it… and it only takes one."

Katarina let out a frustrated sigh at her father's protectiveness. She understood his point, but she couldn't live with being so powerless. She would have to get stronger. This trend of being forced to adhere to restrictions on her missions could not continue. "Okay, who's last?"

"Irelia, the daughter of the Hiten master I killed before the invasion," the general explained. "I had lost track of her for a while, but it seems she is indeed here, and she has her father's sword. I want you to avoid conflict with her at all costs. If you come to blows, you will die."

"What? You're that certain? What good is all of this training if some girl with her daddy's sword can kill me without question? I thought you said she didn't come near her father in terms of skill."

"Relax," Marcus ordered. "Again, this is less a matter of skill, and more a matter of your unfamiliarity with her weapon. It is the only blade in existence that can unleash the full potential of the Hiten style, and its unconventional movements are unlike anything I have ever seen before. Because of this, she doesn't need to be as skilled as her father; she will kill you before you adapt. It's that simple."

"Then how do we deal with her?" Katarina pressed.

"I will deal with her personally," Marcus explained. "I'm likely the only one in this army that stands a chance against a proficient Hiten user in single combat."

"Alright, so I kill Karma and Lee Sin if I get the chance, and avoid Udyr and Irelia. Is that right?"

"Not quite. I don't want you going a single step out of your way to find any of them. Your priority is that gate and nothing else. I only told you these things so you know who you can and can't confront should one of them block your path or catch you in the act. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Father. I'll assemble my team and make preparations immediately."

"Good. I expect great things from you, Kat. Don't let me down."

* * *

Irelia jolted awake to the sound of a thunderous crack that rang throughout the Placidium, shaking the structure to its very core. Disoriented, she tried to gather herself, but was met only with the chaos of battle. Hoards of men rushed past her form in frantic blurs, their shadows cast long and dark against the stone walls by the torches that lit the halls. The audible storm of the stampede that she knew she should be hearing was almost completely absent, and any orders being shouted out were muffled beyond comprehension from the ringing in her ears.

She took a deep breath and took a look around, every facet of her being devoted to figuring out where she was and what was going on. Slowly but surely, it came back to her. She had been sitting, leaned against a stone wall in a corridor not far from the Noxian lines, trying desperately to catch some sleep. Since the Noxians suddenly breached the front gates three days ago, she was lucky to find time for a twenty minute nap. She was in the middle of her most recent one before being stirred by that… whatever it was. Judging by the desperation on the looks of the men who were running to respond to it, it couldn't have been good. Irelia approached the officer in charge of the area and began to interrogate him.

"Why are so many of our men mobilizing? Where are they going?"

The older man looked at her with an expression of disgust. "Didn't you hear that explosion girl? They've started taking shortcuts. Get your ass to the Serene Garden; it cannot be allowed to fall!"

Irelia's eyes grew wide as she heard the man's orders. Without so much as a word of acknowledgement, she was just one of the swarm rushing to through the halls. If the he Noxians had already reached the Serene Garden; this battle would soon be decided.

Since the moment the imperials stepped foot within the Placidium, the Ionians had fighting a battle of inches. The Placidium's structure consisted primarily of a web of halls and corridors that could barely accommodate ten men abreast. The Ioninan approach of facing the Noxians within these corridors was their best option, but the defense became exponentially harder with each intersection the imperials managed to reach and seize. With every intersection they captured, they gained access to new halls, and could devote their overwhelming numbers advantage to applying offensive pressure in all of the new places they could now reach.

Simply sending troops to wherever the enemy showed up would leave the Ionians dangerously outpaced, so they answered this possibility by deploying their defense in five layered semi-circles, centered around the main building of the School of Transcendentalism, which was on the side of the structure opposite the Noxian entry point. This allowed them to meet the imperial advance from wherever it may come, and be reinforced by troops from the interior 'rings' within minutes. Should a point on the ring be breached, the surviving troops from that layer would retreat and collapse into the next ring in, meaning that the Ionian resistance would grow more staunch with the further the Noxians progressed.

Irelia had been placed in the innermost ring, along with most of the rest of Ionia's better fighters, and had been sent in and out of combat to reinforce the outer rings as her superiors saw fit. So far, from what she could tell in her time on the front lines, the layered defense was doing its job. It took the Noxians an entire day to break the outer ring, and two to breach the second. At that rate, they could very well hold out until the Demacian forces arrived. At least, that would be the case if the Placidium were truly just an endless maze of narrow passageways. Unfortunately, it was more than that. Throughout the Placidium were three major facilities that linked dozens of different passageways throughout the structure. These were the Shojin Monastery, the Serene Garden, and the School of Transcendentalism. The School of Transcendentalism was of little worry, as all of the Ionian forces would have to fall before the Noxians could even see it. The Shojin Monastery was relatively close to the Noxian entry point, and had fallen quite easily on the second day, as its position made it a fairly low priority target. The Serene Garden, however, was of vital importance to the successful defense of the Placidium.

The Serene Garden was positioned in the center of the Placidium, and as such, lay just behind the third ring of defense. Should the third layer be pushed back far enough, the Serene Garden would be within reach, allowing the Noxians to take it and use it to drastically improve the proficiency and unpredictability of their troop movements. Frankly speaking, if the Serene Garden was taken, the third ring would be forced to retreat immediately or be routed within the following hours. That was simply not an outcome the Ionians could afford. The commanders knew that. They _knew_ , so why were they on the back foot? Why were there so many people rushing to defend a point they should have predicted being attacked? Wouldn't they have known that the third line had been pushed back far enough for the imperials to threaten the garden?

Before she could finish her thoughts, another explosion rang out. She was much closer this time.

What could they possibly be doing with explosives in narrow corridors like this? Wouldn't they be harming themselves more than anyone else by setting those off?

"Hurry up!" came a shout from further ahead. "We need to stop them or they'll bring this whole place down!"

It was then that Irelia understood. The Noxians had decided to forego fighting their way through the third ring and started blowing holes in the walls to reach the garden directly. She couldn't believe it. Invaders or no, they had been making a point to avoid damaging the Placidium. Irelia had assumed that they wanted to keep it intact, but perhaps they were only being conditioned to believe that so when the time came, the imperials would be able to blitz the Serene Garden while the Ionians were off guard.

The second ring had only fallen a few hours ago, and the Noxian commander was already making his move on the third. If he succeeded, the morale of the Ionian forces would plummet. Losing two rings in one day was not something these people could mentally handle. It was a genius plan, but entailed great risk for someone that didn't possess thorough knowledge of the Placidium's construction. One poorly placed breach could bring an entire section of the Placidium down on his own men. If they managed to pull this off, then this General Du Couteau was truly a mind to be feared.

Being able to see little but the backs of the soldier in front of her and the confines of the hallway made it very easy for Irelia to feel as if she had been running forever without truly getting anywhere. Much to her surprise, that all changed in an instant. With little warning beyond the distant clashing of swords gradually growing louder, the walls that surrounded her vanished. Taking their place was a massive garden that held all variety flora, all centered around the largest tree Irelia had ever seen. All native Ionians had heard of the magnificence of the Great Tree that stood in the Placidium's festivity grounds, but seeing it in person was another experience entirely. Irelia couldn't help but think that this was a fitting place to stage one of the most important parts of this defense. Their chances of surviving until the Demacian intervention skyrocketed with every hour that they held this place. That being said, actually accomplishing that feat was easier said than done. The Serene Garden was a very large open space in which the Noxians would be very capable of exercising their numbers advantage, and if the Ionians overcommitted to defending it with reinforcements from the interior, the fourth and fifth rings would fall much easier than they should. The existing defense force was managing to use the various entrances to the garden as choke points, which was precisely why the Garden hadn't already fallen, but the Noxians' new approach would leave that strategy useless. The Ionians had no choice but to fight an honest battle here.

A final, almost deafening explosion signaled the beginning of the struggle for the Serene Garden. A horde of Noxian soldiers clad in black armor rushed through the breach before the dust settled, charging and crashing into the less experienced Ionian soldiers. The first blades met, and the whole garden descended into chaos. For that moment, the Ionians held their line. Everyone from warrior monks to farmhands met the imperials with righteous indignation, all fighting above and beyond what they thought they were capable of. Even with this level of motivation and fury, however, the Noxian advance was relentless. No matter how many imperials were run through, it seemed three more were there to take their fallen comrade's place. It wasn't long before Ionian forces found themselves being gradually pushed back. After a half hour of crashing against a stone wall of a defense, the Noxians broke through, and the entire garden went to hell.

* * *

General Du Couteau placed a single foot through the breach, surveying the chaotic battleground that the Serene Garden had become. As early as his first glance, he could see the jagged black armor of the Noxians mixed in thoroughly with the smooth red and whites of the Ionians. Any ranks or formations had long since been abandoned; it was a less than favorable situation, but one that would see a Noxian victory nonetheless. This should be the case, but something was amiss. The battle had raged on for three hours now; the undisciplined Ionians should have already broken in such chaos. This warranted a closer look.

Well over a thousand Ionians and Noxians were scattered about the garden randomly, engaging each other haphazardly and with no regard for their surroundings. Marcus watched intently as the Ionian forces butchered his own at staggeringly disproportionate rates. He could see in their eyes the ceaseless well of passion that compels a man's sword when he answers the call to defend his homeland. Men who likely never held a proper weapon in their lives matched his soldiers blow for blow, their aggression and fury more than compensating for their lack of skill. Even in the face of overwhelming odds, they threw themselves into danger with reckless abandon, their sheer determination driving the courage from the imperial troops' hearts. It was beautiful… and the vibrant moonlight shining over the scene made him wish he could capture the moment in a painting. Perhaps he would commission it later; for now he had bigger priorities. This advance was becoming far too costly for his liking.

The general placed his second foot through the breach taking up a leisurely stride toward the heart of the garden. He effortlessly cut down the few that were ill-informed enough to attack him, sparing their unrefined strikes little more than a passing glance before deflecting them and ending his opponents' lives. It did not take long for the nearby Ionians to take notice of this new indomitable presence on the battlefield. Soon, men began to cower away from him as his the air began to fill with cheers and chants for the general. Within minutes, nearly every soldier in the garden felt the mood change. Morale had shifted back in favor of the empire.

Marcus smiled to himself, knowing his purpose here was all but completed. It was troublesome that he had to appear on the battlefield in the first place, but it seemed that his presence had been the swing that Noxus needed. At least, that was what he thought. To his dismay, a single voice found his ears through all of the shouting, cheering and clashing metal. A key participant in this battle was being called to help…

"Irelia"

Marcus nearly froze in place. The man quickly scanned the battlefield for the Hiten user, eventually finding an unusually large cluster of Noxians crowded against what seemed to be only a single person. Without hesitation, the general made his way toward them, weaving through soldiers, corpses, and those lingering in between as quickly as possible. A few more hurried strides and he was close enough to clearly discern what was happening. As he feared, the Hiten user had taken to the field, and by the looks of it, she had been here for a while. Gone were the nerves and stiffness that would mar the technique of one as new to such carnage as her. Now, her movements flowed like water, and her eyes were cold and free of emotion. Even now, faced with four men, she used that monstrosity of a weapon to meet each of them, undaunted. Before long, they began to drop, their efforts wasted on the Hiten user. This wasn't the same girl he had seen when he poisoned Master Lito; this was a machine built for the sole purpose of rending life from flesh. If she hadn't donned the standard red and white of Ionia, and one could clearly see the amount of blood she wore, even the bravest of men would cower away from her. Eventually, new soldiers took the place of their fallen comrades and faced down the young Ionian. Marcus could not let this go on.

"Back away from her if you value your life," he shouted. "I shall handle her myself."

"Yes, General." The nearby Noxians wasted no time in complying with their commander's orders, warily backing away from blue-haired blade mistress.

Irelia seemed to have gained a quick grasp of the situation, and immediately turned her attention to approaching assassin. "Are you Marcus Du Couteau, commander of these men?" she asked from a distance.

"I am."

"Have your men retreat. Your plan has failed; surely you've wasted enough lives to see that."

The general showed a confident smile at the Ionian's request. "I'm not sure you understand how strategy works. We outnumber you five to one; we can afford to take a few losses to brute force our way through your lines."

"Fair enough," Irelia answered. "I want you to consider something though, Marcus. Take a look around you. Understand that every last Noxian you see fighting in this garden right now will be butchered long before you will be able to claim a victory here. I will see to that _personally_." The Hiten user allowed a moment of silence to pass so her message could sink into the redhead's mind. "So tell me, General, is it still worth it?"

Marcus drew a saber from his waist and steeled himself for combat. "You are a proud one, aren't you? It seems I'll have the solemn honor of sending two Hiten users to early graves. I'm looking forward to it."

Irelia seemed visibly shaken by that comment. That was good; he would need to unbalance her emotionally if he was going to have a comfortable chance of winning this duel.

"What are you talking about?! Who did you kill? Zelos?"

It appeared he was blessed with more opportunities to get the young woman riled up. "Not even worth my time. I had a subordinate take care of that for me. I heard the lad didn't even have a chance to draw his sword."

"Who, then? My father died of illness."

"He died of poison, girl… courtesy of me. I couldn't have a warrior of that caliber walking around and ruining my invasion. I spared you thinking I you didn't have the potential to match him, but it appears I made a gross miscalculation. It looks like I'll just have to clean up my mess." Without so much as a flinch to telegraph his intentions, the man vanished from sight, reappearing behind Irelia and ready to plunge his sword into her back.

Irelia reflexively lunged forward, moving her blade just far enough behind her to deflect what would have been a fatal blow, immediately turning her stance to face the general and following up with a flurry of attacks of her own.

Marcus was stunned by sheer combative instinct this woman possessed. Not only did she stop his assassination, she managed to immediately follow up on it. Wasn't this girl just shaken? How quickly could she have possibly regained her composure? A look of displeasure crept its way onto Marcus's face as he struggled to defend against his opponent's bizarre pattern of attacks. This was what he hated about the Hiten style; fighting one proficient opponent was like fighting three due to the nature of the weapon it was designed for. If he continued to fight with only one blade, he would be on the defensive until he either died or managed to capitalize on a critical mistake. That scenario was not one he was willing to entertain. Seeing the briefest of openings in the Ionian's offensive, he took a large step backwards and drew a second saber.

The surrounding soldiers, both Noxian and Ionian, soon ceased their fighting; captivated by the display before them. Irelia's movements were fluid and unconventional. She moved her body nearly as much as her exotic blade, repositioning and stance shifting constantly to create the optimal angles for her multi-directional attacks. To these soldiers, and perhaps even the general himself, the amount of focus and mental fortitude required to fight as she did was simply unfathomable.

Then, there was the general. Even in the face of an opponent that at times had four blades moving independently of each other, he always found a way intercept them and counter with only his two sabers. Despite the frenzied speed he was fighting at to keep up with the absurd number of attacks his opponent was producing, no movement was wasted. He moved each sword to exactly where it needed to be, all the while operating with such proficiency that he was never at risk of tangling up or getting in his own way. This man's swordsmanship was inhumanly efficient, the product of a lifetime of constant struggle and self-improvement that only Noxus could produce.

Strength from hardship and strength from the desire to perfect oneself, Marcus and Irelia were the embodiment of their respective nations' philosophies, and the epitomes of what they had to offer. It was almost as if the war itself was represented in the clash between these two titans of the battlefield.

For minutes on end, steel met steel at a maddening rate. To the untrained eye, neither was gaining an obvious advantage, but to the fighters themselves, it was clear that Marcus's experience was slowly granting him an edge. It had turned out that Irelia was not as good as he had originally thought. While she was able to emulate her father's ability to manipulate the four blades in separately, it was only ever for a single combination of strikes. After that, she would revert to moving the blades in pairs, or moving only two or three at a time. In addition, Marcus was beginning to recognize patterns in her attacks. They were not constant, but she had habits of following up certain attacks with specific movements that he was becoming able to predict. If the fight continued like this, he would emerge the victor.

A few more moments past before this pattern emerged once again. She attacked from the left, then the top, then the right before stepping to the side to swing all four blades in consecutive upward strikes. In that brief moment, he would have nothing to defend against. This was his chance. As the Hiten master made her step, the general leapt backwards, thrusting one of his sabers into the ground and using his now free hand to throw a number of small daggers into the ground around Irelia. Before she could figure out what he was doing, the man vanished once again, appearing at one of his daggers and attacking her from an angle she was barely able to defend against. She tried to counter, but by the time her blades reached him, he was already gone. Yet again, he appeared in a new place, his attack once again being defended by the narrowest of margins one could manage. This process repeated, Irelia managing to remain unscathed save for shallow and inconsequential cuts on her arms and legs. Eventually, the man blinked back to the saber that he had stuck into the ground and picked it back up. This time, however, he did not attack as Irelia had come to expect. Instead, he blinked back to one of his daggers fast enough to render Irelia unable to track him.

She had lost him, and she had never been more on edge in her life. Before she could even guess where he could be, the burning sting of steel piercing her flesh overwhelmed her senses. She could feel warm blood trickling down her back from 'X' shaped cuts. The Ionian fell to her knees, releasing her grip on the central orb of her blade and letting it fall to the floor. Her breaths became ragged, and the unshakeable concentration that previously graced her face was long gone. In that moment, it seemed as though all of the Placidium had gone silent. Irelia, who in the span of a few minutes had gone from a name only a small few knew to the champion of Ionia's hopes, had fallen.

All she could see were her hands and knees on the grass of the garden she had failed to protect, and her head was consumed by the pulsing pain of her injury. Was this all that her efforts would come to? A meaningless last stand in which her life and legacy would fade into obscurity? She couldn't accept that; but what else could she do? Even if she got back up, she could not beat this man the way she was now. Her mind raced to find solutions, but everything was brought to a halt by Marcus's next words.

"Ionians, cease this pointless fight. The greatest fighter among you has fallen; you need not follow. Lay down your arms and return to your families. Choose peace, join our nation, and become a part of something far greater than Ionia. Join the many great societies that are the foundation for the greatest empire Valoran has ever seen. You will keep your pride, you will keep your identities, and you will keep your lives. What say you?"

She could feel herself overcome with rage as she thought of how her father and brother were robbed of their lives, and the countless innocents they gassed and butchered like animals to get here. Then, after all of the destruction, bloodshed, and destruction he inflicted upon this land, this hypocrite had the audacity march on their most sacred landmark and preach peace atop a mountain of corpses. This was inexcusable.

The general looked around at the soldiers that surrounded him and took a great sigh of relief. They were not yet ready surrender, but they had lost their will to fight. This battle was over, whether they realized it or not. His attention returned to Irelia, who appeared to be seething at her loss. "I would have liked to have faced your father," he called out to her, "It would have been a much better fight." He would love to kill her, but doing so had a chance to inspire even more animosity among the Ionians. If Noxus were to take this place by the time the Demacians arrived, he couldn't kill her here. Whether or not he allowed her to bleed to death was another story.

Irelia was shaking with rage. That comment was the last straw. To hell with balance and serenity, she was sending this man to the darkest, most horrific depths of the afterlife even if it killed her. Irelia placed a hand back on the orb of her father's blade, ready to take up arms once again. However, something was different this time. Her touch seemed to change the nature of the magic that resided within the weapon. It was no longer a tool for killing, it was an essence that reached out and wanted to bond with her. She accepted this new power, and with a pulse of magical energy spreading through her body, she finally understood.

Her father had always told her that mastering oneself was critical to unlocking the secrets of the blade, and it now seemed that even he had failed in this task. Mastering oneself meant taking all of these thoughts, all of the emotions that stemmed from your being, and accepting them. That meant hatred, anger, and desperation just as much as it did joy, tolerance, and serenity. That was where the old ways had failed their people, and why her father, who epitomized their teachings, could never interact with the magics that controlled the ultimate form of the blade he had created, even with his lifetime of meditation. In finally embracing her darkness, she had become one with herself.

Marcus looked on in annoyance as Irelia slowly rose back to her feet, her father's blade in hand.

"Kill me now."

The general shook his head. It was a clever move, trying to goad him into killing her and igniting the fire of Ionian defiance yet again, but it wouldn't work. She had lost, and she would have to accept her disgraceful defeat with as much dignity as she could muster. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

Irelia held the orb in front of her, focusing her mind on synchronizing with the blades yet again. "That wasn't a request. That was your last chance to leave this place alive."

The Noxian blade master couldn't help but laugh at that. "That's awfully bold talk for someone who can't even beat an old man with half as many blades as her. Whatever you're planning, I'd suggest you stop; you're only going to embarrass yourself."

The grin on the general's face slowly faded as Irelia released her grip the orb, leaving the blade hovering in between her two hands. Marcus could scarcely believe his eyes; the blade was… floating. He didn't know what obscure magics were at work here, but he would have to find out quickly if her were to subdue her.

"Prepare yourslef, Marcus Du Couteau. I will teach you the true meaning behind the name 'Soaring Heaven'."

The blades spread apart in front of Irelia without her needing to do so much as flinch. Marcus took a step back and raised his blades, preparing for the grueling struggle that awaited him. He looked into the Ionian's eyes, and for the first time in his life, Marcus knew fear.

* * *

 **A/N: Glad to finally have this chapter behind me. It was really fun to write, and served as excellent practice for the sequel fanfic which will likely have chapters about this long. Hopefully I can improve my ability to write large-scale battles and dramatic confrontations before that rolls around. Anyway, thanks for reading. We have about two chapters left of just Talon and Riven before this all wraps up. It's been a pleasure writing for you guys; hopefully you'll stick with me to the end. See you in the next chapter.**


	19. Chapter 19

Talon sat in solitude in the dining area of the Ionian inn his party had stayed at the night before. The assassin had just bid farewell to his twin sister, who had begun to make her way to the Placidium to join the Demacian intervention. She had left him with an abundance of helpful information that she had received via messenger bird from her officer. He didn't know how she had the energy to be so busy when the sun hadn't even risen above the tree line, but he supposed everyone had their ways. He was by no means a morning person himself, but he was eager to get his discussion with Riven back underway. Today could determine both of their futures, and with Ahri and Quinn gone, they could have their talk without any distractions.

According to Quinn, Noxus would be reaching the Placidium today, and the Demacians would follow four days from now. Ionia's fate was in the hands of its people, and he wasn't sure the people could be trusted. Ionia as a nation valued peace, and while there was nothing inherently wrong with that, they were pacifistic to a fault as a result. It had a fair share of skilled warriors and commanders that would likely have spent their lives studying strategy, but that only meant so much. A single battle's experience taught men things they could never learn from a book. The entirety of the Noxian army was composed of men with such experience. The Ionians on the other hand were fielding farmhands and whatever obscure talent they could get their hands on. They stood no chance of winning this battle outright, but they might be able to hold on long enough for the Demacians to show up. If they did, it would require multiple Ionians to pull off feats worthy of the title 'hero'. Talon couldn't wait.

"You're awake," a groggy voice spoke, "…and alone."

Talon turned to see his old apprentice practically stumbling from the hall. She was clothed properly for the day, but her hair indicated that she had very recently risen from bed. "Quinn is headed to the Placidium, and Ahri and I were always going to go our separate ways eventually." Talon informed. "It's just us today."

"I see," Riven said, taking a seat across from the assassin. "So, where did we leave off?"

Talon leaned forward, looking the white-haired girl directly in her light brown eyes. "You were deciding whether or not you want to be with me," he stated. "But before that, I want you to promise me something."

Riven's head tilted in curiosity. "What would that be?"

"Even if you choose not to resume our relationship, you have to leave Ionia."

The exile pondered his request, trying to discern what drove the urgency behind it. She came up with a couple ideas, but she ultimately wouldn't know until she asked. "Why? Is something going to happen?"

"This place is going to fall to chaos," Talon explained. "I've been talking with Ahri recently; It turns out there are a lot more players on the board than we were previously thought. Regardless of who wins this war, neither side will be able to contain the chaos that will erupt when it's over. If Ionia drives us out, they will be weakened, and the exposing of the flaws in their elders' philosophies will open the door for new, potentially radical leaders to take their places. These new political factions, in addition to hostile Vastayan tribes and every other mage that thinks they're important enough to guide this nation, are going to drive Ionia into a civil war far worse than our invasion. If we win, the same will happen, only a revolt will precede the civil war. These factions will likely unite to remove the empire from power before turning against each other. No place will be safe for a Noxian exile like yourself, no matter the outcome."

Riven's eyes lost focus as these different scenarios played out in her head. From what she could tell, Talon was correct. A power vacuum was inevitable, and no place would welcome her once the fighting started. She hadn't considered this at all. Her circumstances would go from difficult to dire, and even if she survived, she would be making no progress toward her goal of reformation at all. She didn't have the years to waste floundering around helplessly in a foreign land while thousands suffered under the heel of a corrupt and ineffective government.

"It's a deal," she said. "I'll leave, no matter what."

Talon nodded with a smile, happy that she was so quick to see reason. "Well now that that's out of the way, let's get back to the topic at hand. I don't mean to put you on the spot, but I _am_ waiting for your answer."

"My answer? What, you want me to decide whether or not I love you right now?" Riven asked.

When she put it like that, it did sound a bit ridiculous. Nonetheless, her decision was the only way this would move forward. "No, but it would be helpful. At the very least, you should consider coming back to Noxus with me. Desertion is a crime, but with the Crimson Elite being an independent force, it won't be hard to create an alibi for you."

Riven shook her head, not entertaining the idea for even a moment. "I can't go back to the General's command," she protested. "That man betrayed his soldiers and left us all for dead. He is not someone I can fight for in good faith. How can you, knowing he willingly ordered the death of someone you loved?"

Riven wasn't trying to start a fight, but ideals were not something she took lightly. She wasn't sure she could even consider a relationship with Talon if he was willing to look past such an act of betrayal. The onus was on him to prove that he still deserved the respect she had given him all this time.

"Were you aware of the distribution of command when you marched with the general?" he asked.

"Of course not," she responded. "I had the general's orders and nothing else, as always. Why are you even asking? Weren't you the one that told me we're kept in the dark intentionally so we won't give away vital information if we're captured?"

He smiled, placing a folded piece of paper on the table and sliding it toward her. The exile took the paper and unfolded it, giving it a brief once-over to get a better idea of what she was looking at.

"It's encrypted," she noted. "Demacian."

"Courtesy of Quinn."

"She gave it to you?" she asked incredulously. "Why would she do something so reckless? She could be compromising dozens of lives if we manage to break that code."

"They'll probably change their cipher after the war," Talon explained. "As for this," he said, pointing out the letter, "it's of no practical use to us; it's just information on which Noxian officers are leading what troops."

"What, you broke the code?"

"Quinn did. Flip it over."

Riven turned the paper over to find a transcription of the coded message written down in incredibly sloppy Ur-Noxian. Riven read through it, coming to a halt when she reached mention of the war machines. "Zaunite war machines-," she started speaking aloud, "operated by scientist Singed, commanded by Lord Cyrus Emystan." The exile dropped the paper onto the table as she took in the implications of what she read.

"The Ionians in the south are calling him 'the man who gassed a nation'," Talon explained further. "There are even rumors he has on occasion gone against the general's orders to test the machines on non-combatant villages."

"He went over Marcus's head," Riven said to no one in particular. She had always thought it was an uncharacteristic maneuver for Marcus, especially when he said that he was predicting an ambush in the pass in the first place. There was no way he would consider gassing his own men as his first option.

Talon watched as the exile sat in contemplative silence for minutes on end, considering her newly defined options. He was far more confident than he was before, but he still had no idea what could be going through her head. Riven had spent more than a month on her own in Ionia, there was no way to know how that experience could have changed her. All he could hope was that she would still view her comrades in the Crimson Elite as her home. Her idol's image was restored, and despite the horrors of war, it seemed from their earlier conversations that she still held the Du Couteau house in high regard. The odds appeared to be in his favor.

Eventually, Riven prepared to speak, and Talon's attention focused on her with indescribable intensity. "I will return to Noxus with you," she said, "but I have several conditions."

"Name them," Talon pleaded. "I'd go to great lengths to have you back with us. I'm sure the others would as well."

"Emystan must be tried for war crimes," she began. "If found guilty, I kill him myself."

Talon nodded at the request. "That should be well within our power. Continue."

"I must be reinstated into the Crimson Elite, taking orders from General Du Couteau and only General Du Couteau."

Once again, Talon nodded. "I believe that is the course this was all going to take in the first place. What else?"

Riven held the assassin's gaze for a time before uttering her next demand. "House Du Couteau must use its position within High Command to push for social reform in the Empire."

Silence followed the exile's request. It was not nearly as simple as the first two. Even if Marcus somehow agreed to follow through with Riven's request and began pushing for changes in the Empire, there was no guarantee whatsoever that it would bear fruit. In fact, House Du Couteau was already on thin-ice in the eyes of the Swain regime due to its unflinching loyalty to the previous Grand General, Boram Darkwill. If they were to attempt to undermine the authority of a Black Rose-backed Jericho Swain, they would quickly find themselves the target of all number of assassination attempts and political sabotage. At the same time, the change of public perception that such a large scale war would have created could afford them the support they would need to stay afloat in an otherwise almost entirely hostile political environment. There was no way he could assure her that Marcus would or even could comply with that condition.

"Reform is a complicated issue," Talon eventually replied. "I won't rule out the possibility of cooperation, but it's not something I can promise you here. At best, we'd all be able to discuss it once you come back. Anything more than that is impossible." Talon could see the dissatisfaction in Riven's face as he gave his answer, but what was true was true. No matter how much he wanted to help her, he could not change reality.

Riven stared at her former mentor for a time, gradually accepting what he had said. Social reform was indeed an extremely nuanced and complicated subject, especially when it is being implemented in an empire. At the very least, she could accept that compromise. "So long as the discussion is held and my proposal is seriously considered, I can return." She had never seen Talon smile the way he did when she spoke those words. It wasn't a particularly expressive smile, hell, it probably barely passed for a smirk. Still, something in his eyes told her that this was one of the happiest moments of his life. It was almost shocking to her to see how much he seemed to care about having her back in his life. What must he have been like when news of her death reached him? She could scarcely imagine the man being so disturbed as to be deemed unfit for duty. Just how much had she been underestimating his feelings toward her?

Just as quickly as it had come, the feeling had left him. Already, his mind had moved on to its next priority. Such were the tendencies of one of the most efficient men in the Noxian Empire. "Riven," he eventually said, "we should head to the Placidium."

"Already?" she questioned. "I'm not sure I can travel that far with this injury."

"I know, but we'll be cut off from the Noxian forces if we wait much longer. Even if they take the Placidium, we'd have to break through Demacian siege lines to reach our allies. At the very least, I want to be close by in case anything happens. We'll move as slowly as we need to, but we have to leave today."

The exile's brow furrowed at his demands. "Are you serious? What am I supposed to do if it gets infected?"

"We'll have to be careful and ensure that doesn't happen." The assassin rose to his feet, pulling up his hood and fastening his arm blade. "Do you still have any of your old gear?"

Riven rolled her eyes t her mentor's persistence. "I have the helmet and a part of my sword."

"A part?"

"I'll explain later. I assume you want me to gear up?"

"You should eat first. At our pace, it'll be about two days to the next village."

"Of course it will," Riven moaned as she stood and began to make her way to her room. She entered, finding her old helmet and blade, and walking in front of a mirror. She watched her reflection intently as slowly lowered the last remaining memento of her time in the Crimson Elite onto her head, a wave of pride washing over her as she did so. Gone was the vulnerable face of a betrayed and broken woman who had lost the drive to take her life into her own hands. She was a warrior, one of Noxus's finest, and seeing her face behind that helmet was all the assurance she needed to know she was making the right choice. She was missing most of her armor and her purple face paint, but she was back, whether the world was ready for her or not.

The corrupt decaying corpse of a nation that called itself 'Noxus' was about to be torn apart and rebuilt into the shining example of human strength that it was always meant to be. The process would be long and arduous, but the empire would be purified, one corrupt leader at a time. Cyrus Emystan had the honor of being the first.

* * *

"What does this make? Five days?" Silence met her question. Riven listened intently to the forest ambiance as she awaited her mentor's answer. Nights in the Ionian wilderness carried with them an atmosphere that was very much unique from the various forests of Valoran. Perhaps it was the calls of unfamiliar wildlife or the lack of any loud cities in the distance. The stars competed with nothing here, and they shone as clearly as the clouds would allow. She could hear everything she wanted… everything but Talon.

The exile turned to the assassin, finding him staring absentmindedly into their campfire, running honing steel down the edge of his arm blade. "Hey, are you listening?" she asked, walking over and sitting next to the man.

"No," came his reply.

Riven nudged her partner with her elbow, shaking him enough to gain his attention. "This is day five, right?"

"Yeah," he answered, making no effort to break his trance-like repetitions. "How's your healing coming along? It should have progressed quite a bit since we left that village."

The young Noxian lifted her shirt to show Talon the cut left behind from her encounter with the wind swordsman. "I've almost completely recovered." True to her words, the cut had nearly closed and had done so without becoming infected. Riven reached into a small jute sack that was tied around her waist and pulled out a small glass bottle of clear liquid. "I don't know what that healer of yours gave me, but it's working wonders. One more application should have me as good as new."

Talon pulled his gaze away from the woman's abdomen lest his eyes linger overlong. "That's good. We might have to fight once we reach the Placidium; it's best if you're in peak condition."

Silence fell over the pair. It was hard to believe that the time had finally come. When they first made landfall, the siege of the Placidium seemed like a distant dream. There was so much land to cover, so many battles to fight, and so many friends to lose… war was far to grueling a matter to anticipate the end in such a way. Yet, here they were. The fighting, at least in the form of proper armies, banners, and war horns, was coming to an end. Chaos would surely follow in the wake of this war, but for now, the soldiers got to pretend that they would be able to rest easy soon.

"You know," Riven began, "this is just like our first mission together. Here we are, camping out under a clear night sky, nothing but trees as far as we can see. You're sharpening your blade the way you always do, your eyes distant and mind probably on the other side of the world. It's almost exactly the same."

"I'll take your word for it," Talon said.

"You don't remember?" Frustration mounted as she watched him nonchalantly shake his head. He may not care, but remembering those kinds of things was important to her. She would just have to jog his memory. "You know you look a lot scarier than you really are."

"Our enemies would disagree."

Riven was taken aback by his reply. "Are you sure you don't remember?" she asked. "That's exactly what you said on our first mission."

Talon returned her statement with a knowing grin that Riven would have missed if not for the campfire's glow. "Of course it is; it's true."

"You ass; you _do_ remember."

"How could I forget?" he asked. "A lot of things changed for me that night." The assassin's thoughts drifted briefly into the past, but he quickly refocused himself on the conversation at hand. "A lot changed for you too."

Riven laughed at the observation. "Maybe not that specific night, but yes, you're right. The entire course of my life changed. I'm not sure I can say it was for the better, but I'm proud of who I am now. I've gained a new family and an opportunity to truly make a difference in the world. If nothing else, I'm grateful."

Talon really didn't know how to respond to reflection with that much sincerity. Eventually he fell back into his blade sharpening, judging it a decent place to drop the topic. Riven too seemed content with leaving the conversation where it was, as she had fallen into what looked like a comfortable silence. Even now, he could scarcely believe that she was alive. It was impossible to express how grateful he was to have her back.

"Hey, you're smiling," Riven noted. "That's a pretty rare sight."

"It should be less so, now that you're around," he said, maintaining his cheery expression.

Riven watched in amusement as he reveled in this moment of joy. Before she knew it, she could feel herself getting flustered. If a simple smile was enough to do this to her, then it was clear she wasn't nearly as over him as she had thought. In fact, her feelings may not have changed at all. All that talk about getting over him and moving on with her life, and she ultimately ended up right back where she started over something as stupid as a little grin. She had to get a handle on herself. She wasn't even sure if she was staying yet; she couldn't go and get invested in him just to leave him again.

Even with that knowledge, she couldn't help but be drawn to him. Perhaps it was being huddled around a lone campfire in the middle of a vast, foreign forest that bred such an urge for intimacy. Maybe it was the nostalgia of the situation dredging up old feelings she thought she had put behind her. Whatever it was, she couldn't get past it. She had been blessed with the opportunity to be reunited with her mentor, confidant, and fleeting lover. There was no way she could justify letting this moment slip away from her. At the very least, she had to try.

"Hey, Talon," she muttered, raising the foreign anodyne she had been given for her cut. "I still need to apply this medicine."

The man looked at her with a confused look, unable to interpret her meaning. "You should probably do that, then. We can't have our travel being hindered by that injury."

"I could use some help," she clarified in as alluring a tone as she could muster.

Talon put down his arm blade and shifted his weight onto his hands. "Why can't you do it on your own?"

Riven sighed and gave up her game. Her time on her own had made her forget how Talon was. For such a worldly and well-traveled man, there were few less knowledgeable than him when it came to intimacy and the romantic desires of women. There was no room for hidden intentions here; she would have to be direct.

The exile gently placed her hand on top of the assassin's, keeping it there and paying close attention to how the mood shifted. As she expected, very little changed. He didn't pull away, and he didn't question her… classic Talon. It should be a crime to make a woman embarrass herself this much. She just might have to bring that up when the time came to discuss her ideas with Marcus.

That was it. Her back was against the wall. She had no choice but to be as overt as possible.

"Does this feel right to you?"

"Is there a reason it shouldn't?"

There it was again. It was that view of intimate relationships that she just couldn't wrap her head around. In his mind, simple desire was enough reason to chance a partnership with someone, responsibilities and social implications be damned. He didn't feel the need to question how much he truly wanted to be with that person, he just followed his heart down whatever path it lead, no matter how reckless it was.

"How can you say that so easily?" she questioned. "I don't get how you can be so sure I'm the right one for you." She could scarcely believe her ears when she heard a soft chuckle coming from behind his hood. This man was actually laughing at her. "What's so funny?"

" _That's_ what all this had been about?" he asked. "All of that reservation was because you didn't think I had spent enough time meditating on whether or not we were a perfect match?"

"Doesn't it bother you?" Riven pressed. "What if it we don't end up being right for each other?"

Talon turned his body to face his companion more directly. "We're not the perfect match," he said, "that much should be more than clear by now."

"What do you mean?"

"We're going to fight. We're going to have disagreements. There may even be times that we're absolutely furious with each other, and can't think of anything we want more than to get away from one another. That's going to be true no matter who we decide to be with, and I've seen too much to waste away searching for the person I get along perfectly enough with when she may not even exist."

The assassin paused, seeing that he would soon end up getting away from himself. "Look," he resumed, "I don't think we're the perfect couple, but I value our bond enough to work through the troubles that will come with it. From what I've seen, that's often as good as it ever gets."

Riven took a moment to think on his words. Could love really be as simple as Talon had said? Could the desire to be with him alone really be enough justification for her to devote herself to this again? All her life she thought she needed reasons piled upon reasons in order to even consider being with someone. That philosophy weighed so heavily on her that they ruined her first night with him. She knew that she loved him, but for some reason she didn't think that was enough, and the guilt of her regret nearly made her consider abandoning the relationship altogether.

Now she was faced with the exact same choice, only this time, she knew far better than her old self. She had experienced firsthand how quickly life can be stolen away from someone, and understood now the futility of waiting for some special someone to walk into her life and be absolutely perfect. The moment she let go of her unreasonable reservations, she realized how much she would enjoy a life with Talon at her side. She loved Talon, and she would be with him. That was the end of it.

"Okay, Talon, I have one more condition for you."

"What is it?"

"We have to keep the promise we made before I left."

The assassin easily recalled the exchange they made on their last morning together before the war. "Then you've decided?"

"I have," Riven answered. "Reforms or no, it's you and me."

She pulled Talon into a tight embrace, but quickly recoiled, having accidentally agitated her wound.

"That's right," Talon observed, "you still haven't applied that medicine."

The exile noticed rather devious intent hidden deep within Talon's amber eyes. It seemed he was finally in the mood to entertain her games. Riven raised the small glass bottle into the air, dangling it playfully. "You know, my offer still stands."

Talon took the bottle, holding Riven's gaze in the process.

"Good."

* * *

Marcus awoke to the sight of a small wooden room and the warmth of a heavy blanket resting on his bedridden body. He could hear the roar of a vessel forging its path through the sea from his cabin's windows; he was on a boat. The general took a deep breath, clearing his mind and collecting himself to the best of his ability. The last thing he could remember was…

"So that's what happened," he muttered to himself. That woman just didn't know when to quit. Standing back up with her back against the wall and almost no hope of surviving a second fight… what the hell was she thinking?

Marcus attempted to sit up only to be met with the excruciating pain of a number of unexpectedly deep wounds in his abdomen, shouting loud enough to be heard outside. His head collapsed back into his pillow as he came to terms with the prospect of being tied to this bed for at least the next few days. He wasn't looking forward to it, but if it meant he was back on his feet as quickly as possible, he was more than willing to play nice. A moment later, the one door his room featured swung open, making way for a tall hooded man to stride into the room.

"Talon. It's good to see you."

The general's protégé nodded in response and walked over to a nearby window. "You almost seem as if you expected me."

"You've been disappearing and popping back up ever since I took you in. Frankly speaking, being surprised by you isn't all that surprising anymore." The redhead took a closer look at his protégé, noticing a sour expression on his face. "What's with that look? Something bothering you?"

"They're starting soon."

Marcus could scarcely hear the young man over the sound of crashing water. "Who is?"

Before Talon could answer, the sound of steel meeting steel rang out over the ocean. Whoever the combatants were, they were both quite fast. It took a great amount of skill to maintain a fight at that speed, leaving the general terribly curious as to who was causing this commotion.

"What's going on?" Marcus pressed. "Who is that?"

"Emystan," Talon replied, closing and locking the shutters to little effect. "I knew she was angry, but letting him last this long... It's almost cruel."

Marcus sighed, remembering Katarina's vow. "Well, there's no helping it. All we can do is try to drown it out with some conversation. To start with, why don't you tell me what's going on? Why am I on a boat?"

"We're going home. The Ionians held, the Demacians showed up, and Noxus ran. I hear your push into the Placidium was one of the deciding factors in the battle."

"How do you mean?"

"Your men broke when they watched you fall. Most everyone gave up on you. Luckily Lady Varn intervened and managed to get you out. Word is she suffered injuries in the process; you owe her."

"Duly noted… What happened after that?"

"Without the Ionians' surrender or the Placidium to hole up in, the imperial forces were caught between two armies. There was fighting, for a time, but we were getting slaughtered. Eventually, the Hand ordered a retreat. I happened to get back in time to sail home with the rest of the Crimson Elite."

The fighting on the deck gave way to masculine screaming, interrupting the flow of the Du Couteaus' conversation. The two men sat in silence, doing their best to ignore it. Before long, the door opened yet again to reveal an all too familiar red-haired woman.

"I've never heard a man scream like that," Katarina said to Talon. "I wouldn't have been kind myself, but I suppose she has reason to be angrier than me."

The general lay wide-eyed as his eldest daughter joined his adopted son in his cabin. "Katarina?"

The Du Couteau scion turned to her father, surprise evident in her expression. "Dad, you're awake! The healer said you'd be unconscious for a couple more days." The young woman returned her attention to her brother and punched him squarely in the shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me he woke up?"

"I just got here," he answered. "Why are you eve-"

"Hold on a moment," the general interrupted. "If you're both down here, who's handling Emystan?"

Katarina punched Talon yet again, this time much harder. "You didn't tell him yet? How useless are you?"

"What are you talking about? " The general pressed. "Would one of you just answer my question?"

Talon lowered his hood and scratched the back of his head. "It's kind of a long story. Tell me how much you know and I'll start from there."

"I heard you and your group were headed for northern Ionia looking for that stone weaver from Katarina".

"Right. Well, I happened to run into someone..."

General Du Couteau limped onto the deck of his ship followed closely by his children, his body racked with pain with every movement he forced it through. He paid it no mind. If she really was alive, he had to see it for himself. A few more steps brought him into view of a crowd of soldiers surrounding two figures. Just as he was told, a Crimson Elite armor-clad Riven stood over the corpse of Cyrus Emystan, her hand hovering over the wound she suffered in Ionia. She must have been in a particularly foul mood if she insisted on dueling one of the better fighters in the empire before letting that injury heal.

"General on deck!"

With the shout of that soldier, all of the crew's attention was drawn to the man, including Riven's. "General," she called, saluting the man. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Marcus waved his hand motioning his crew to be at ease and return to their duties. "Shouldn't you be dead?"

Riven smiled at the jest. "The Crimson Elite are the very best Noxus has to offer. Whatever it _does_ take to kill us, it's a lot more than whatever he's got, gas or steel." she said, pointing at Emystan's body with her fragmented blade.

"So it would seem," the general observed. "Talon tells me your return to our fold is dependent on a few… conditions. Believe me when I say that I am overjoyed you survived, and would like nothing more to have you back with us as quickly as possible. However, this discussion will have to wait until we've settled back in Du Couteau manor. The political climate in Noxus is a fickle mistress, and we would be fools to make any concrete decisions before we have a firm grasp of the war's effect on it."

"I understand," Riven responded, her gaze turning to Talon. "Take as long as you need. I have plenty of ways to pass the time while I wait."

* * *

 **A/N: Only one chapter left. Thanks for sticking around.**


	20. Chapter 20

For the first time since her joining, Riven was able to witness all of the senior members of the Crimson Elite gathered for an official meeting. Katarina Du Couteau, Talon Du Couteau, General Marcus Du Couteau, and herself; they were the pillars upon which one of the most powerful houses of Noxus stood. The four of them were spread about Marcus's dimly lit study in whatever position of rest they found most comfortable. The general sat at his desk on the far end of the room, examining the reports of the countless informants he had spread throughout the empire. With the topic they were approaching today, he needed to be as informed as possible.

"Are you almost ready, Sir?" Talon called from near the doorway. The old Riven would have wondered why he didn't join her and Katarina on the couches situated in the middle of the room, but by now she knew that the man was much more comfortable with his back to a wall than sitting in expensive chairs. It still bothered her to a small degree, but she was more than able to get past it.

"Patience, Talon," Marcus replied. Anxious moments passed as the three officers watched the general sift through the last of his stack of papers to see if there was any relevant information in the reports they contained. Satisfied that he had seen the last of the important ones, he reformed the stack of papers and gently pushed them aside, leaning forward over his desk with renewed focus. "Now, shall we begin?" The man waited for the attention of the others to shift to him before continuing. "As you all know, House Du Couteau is in a rather precarious position within the empire. Our forces have nearly halved in number due to our failed assault on the Placidium, and the Swain regime keeps us at arm's length, watching us with wary eyes. As things are now, it would be a prime opportunity for our enemies to destabilize us and unseat us from power."

Katarina let out a sigh at her father's observation. "What's new? That cripple has wanted us gone since he took control, and we're still here. There isn't a single person in his camp with the balls or skill to take any of us out. We just have to manage our relations with the other houses well and lay low for a while; they won't be able to lay a finger on us."

"It is not the Swain regime I fear," Marcus replied, "it's the Black Rose." The general rose to his feet and walked toward the center of the room, taking a seat next to his daughter. "Their power is great and their numbers many. With the rule of Jericho Swain, their organization's influence is at heights unprecedented by even the original LeBlanc. Well intentioned or not, Evaine will not take kindly to us upsetting the balance of power in the empire with propositions of reform."

Riven traded knowing glances with Talon, earning her a nod from the assassin, urging her to speak up. "I understand what you two are saying, and I agree that the political atmosphere is too rocky for us to go to High Command and start pushing to reform the law, but I'm not going to give up on this. I love this empire, and I can't ignore its errant path any longer. I don't mind waiting, but if you aren't going to help me, I'll find a way to do this myself."

Marcus silently considered her position. It seemed her passion for her cause exceeded his expectations. She was prepared to resort to nearly suicidal means of sparking the fires of change in the empire. He needed to rein her in, but he couldn't risk losing her loyalty by shelving her ambitions for too long. He would, at the very least, have to provide her a concrete timeline of when she could expect the house to bring her case to High Command. She was wise enough by now to know how sensitive their situation was, and she had already said, she was willing to wait. "I do want to help you, Riven, but know that even now I don't expect to be able to move forward with your requests for at least a year."

"Is that really all you can give me?" Riven asked.

"I know it must be frustrating, but I'm really not the one with the answers you're looking for," Marcus said. "I may be the head of this house, but it will likely be Cassiopeia that navigates us through the storm that's looming over the empire. Her connections and gift for political maneuvering far exceed my own. We would be foolish to stick our necks out without her guidance."

"When is she due back?" Riven inquired.

"About three months," Katarina answered. "That's assuming she doesn't find anything worth researching or investigating. Though, with all of the rumors coming out of Shurima lately, I wouldn't be surprised if she's already found a reason to stay longer. For now, we just keep our ears to the ground and try to stay off of the other houses' hit lists."

"Business as usual," Talon muttered.

"Not quite," Marcus said. "I know I said we will be doing our best to keep the Du Couteau name out of Swain's ear, but the world moves nonetheless, and if we are to maintain the prestige of our house, we will have to move with it. The Hand has informed High Command that he wishes to redouble Noxus's military efforts in the Freljord. It is still some time off, but a call to arms will be issued throughout the empire. Many of the greater houses will be drafting soldiers from their holds and bolstering their armies for the empire's next conquest. We will use this opportunity to do some recruiting of our own."

Katarina spoke up, doubt written on her face. "You want to replace our numbers just to have them all freeze to death in Darius's glamour campaign?" she challenged. "You can't honestly think that this is a good idea."

Marcus placed a reassuring hand on his daughter's shoulder, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "Have some faith in your father, Katarina. I have no intention to throw more soldiers away in a frozen wasteland. I meant recruiting for the Crimson Elite. There is no doubt the empire is still laden with untapped talent that could be of great use to us. Should the need arise for us to deal with Swain or the Black Rose, no number of legions will help us. What we need are more talented, highly trained agents such as yourselves. That is where I'd have you focus your attention."

The Du Couteau patriarch rose to his feet, walking back to his desk in long, confident strides befitting a man of his stature. "That being said, we all just returned from a war. I shall leave you all to your own devices until Cassiopeia returns, so long as you do not compromise your safety or the safety of the house. Once Cassiopeia does arrive, you are all to return to me as quickly as you able so that we may resume our work in earnest. Is that clear?"

The occupants of the room answered his question with simultaneous nods.

"Excellent. You're dismissed."

Without sparing a second, the general returned his attention to his reports, and the others returned to their rooms to figure out what they would do with the coming months.

* * *

Riven patiently observed Talon as he managed a number of multicolored pushpins stuck in a map of the world that was spread across his bedroom wall. She was surprised at how new everything seemed considering this was her second time here. Perhaps she was more impaired than she had thought that night. Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in its off-putting cleanliness for the second time since entering. She had mentioned it to him, but his explanation of 'I'm never here long enough to make a mess,' while reasonable, didn't satisfy her curiosity. This place was beyond clean; it was almost empty. There was a bed, a dresser, a trunk that she could only assume held weapons or other nefarious tools, and of course, the map.

The map in particular was likely Talon's most valuable asset as an agent of his house. With it, he tracked innumerable people of interest around the world. Be they 'cooperative' political figures, information brokers, potential targets, or other Noxian agents, they were all accounted for with color-coded pins. Of course, most of them were not precise, but at the very least they provided him with a place to start looking should he need to find someone.

Riven watched as he moved Sarah Fortune from Ionia back to Bilgewater, and who she could only assume was Quinn from Demacia to Ionia. Following the peace treaty, both Noxus and Demacia evacuated their military forces, leaving nothing more than embassies and enough troops to guard them. Of course, Noxus was keen on overreaching, and high command was already hard at work establishing a new intelligence network on the islands. It was also likely that by now the Black Rose had taken root in Ionian soil. Demacia had left Quinn on the archipelago based on well-placed suspicion that the empire's machinations had not yet ceased. Then, the assassin pulled out a pin of a color that was not currently in use on the map, placing it squarely in the center of Ionia.

"Ahri?" Riven asked. She still didn't know much about Vastaya girl that had guided Talon through Ionia. She had no idea as to the details of their relationship or why the girl left. All she knew was that Talon seemed to be troubled by her unknown status well beyond what he was willing to admit.

"Something like that."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Talon took a step away from the map, scanning the entire continent for patterns, potential threats, or anything that raised a red flag to him. His eyes wandered back and forth, breezing over Zaun and Piltover, lingering slightly on Demacia and the Freljord, and ultimately settling back on Ionia. "I should go back."

"What are you talking about?" Riven asked.

"Ahri mentioned something like it before." Talon began, "She told me that there were unseen powers in Ionia that will come to the surface once this war is over. Her wording was rather vague, so it seemed more like an empty prediction than a concrete warning, but I'm beginning to see what she was talking about."

Talon motioned Riven toward the map, and she quickly went to work analyzing it. Within seconds she could see that the density of pins in Ionia now matched that of Noxus Prime and Demacia City. To her though, all she saw was a new generation of heroes born in the fires of war. Ionia had been united against a great enemy, and their sense of national pride and unity had been brought to new heights.

Sensing her confusion, Talon asked a single question. "Who of these figures, if any, would you say leads the Ionian people?"

Riven hesitated with her answer, and with that hesitation, the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place, and she saw the entire picture. There was no way to tell. Ionia was fractured. The old leadership had cost the Ionian people almost an entire generation of lives. It was likely that nearly every Ionian knew at least one person that died in the war. There was no way that the majority was content with the council of elders after this, and the only obvious alternative was an upstart village mediator who captured the hearts of the youth with her heroics in a time of war. Ionia could not go back to the elders, but neither could they put their fate in the hands of an inexperienced youth. She may have been a war hero, but there was no place that was less respected than Ionia. A power vacuum had opened in the core of Ionia, and there was no telling who would rise to fill it.

"So they're in just as much trouble as we are," Riven observed.

"It will be worse," Talon stated. "Noxian culture provides guidelines for infighting. We have ways to cut each other down without risking the integrity of the state. Ionia will be chaos."

Riven raised an eyebrow at her former mentor. "Alright, I get it. You want boots on the ground to keep track of how everything plays out. But why go yourself? Why not let the general's spies take care of it?"

Riven could tell he was still undecided from the vacant look on his face. Perhaps she should take the opportunity to drive her point home. "We need you here, Talon. We may have been given time to ourselves, but you know Noxus isn't just going to wait for us to take it seriously again before it starts moving. There may already be a plot afoot to have us all killed. If the Crimson Elite doesn't resume duties immediately, we're doing nothing but taking an unnecessary risk."

"You're right," Talon admitted, finally pulling his gaze away from Ionia. "Of course you're right." The man brought a hand to his forehead, his breaths becoming deeper and more exaggerated. Eventually, his apparent distress turned into levity, and the faintest of smiles graced his face. There truly was nothing to worry about. Ionia was under Quinn and Demacia's vigil, and Ahri would ultimately be safe. She may have downplayed her abilities, but they would never even have met if she wasn't capable of killing over a dozen trained soldiers all on her own. He had enjoyed his journey with the two of them, but the time had come for them to all walk their separate paths.

"We have work to do; what do you say we get going?"

* * *

A lone girl stood hunched over, locks of her long white hair clinging to her sweaty face. A whirlwind of emotions swirled within her. Rage, sorrow, vulnerability, fear… her inner state of chaos was a stark contrast to the serene Ionian temple garden that surrounded her. She had never pushed herself that hard, not even in her most rigorous training sessions, and she felt the effects in the aftermath. Eventually, the girl stopped her heaving and did her best to get herself back under control.

A few moments of steady breathing and meditation passed, but they did not last for very long. Already, news of the Noxian invasion was reemerging in her mind. She thought of the countless dead, and the irreparable sorrow of those that lost them. She remembered the stories of entire villages being raided, pillaged, and raped by pirate scum along the coast. Even in the face of her nation's victory, tales of her peoples suffering haunted her. Not even her dreams were safe from the horrors of the war she was kept from.

The thought of it still enraged her. It was mere happenstance that Ionia was home to enough dormant heroes to fight back the empire. She should have been there. She should have been at the Placidium, protecting the innocent and fighting back the hordes of imperial invaders. She should have been on the Northern coasts, rending the Bilgewater savages' ships from the sea and tearing them asunder. Instead, she was locked away from the world, able to do nothing but watch on from afar as her nation burned. In her mind, there was just as much blood on the hands of the passive onlooker as the monsters that instigated this war. Her master had betrayed both her and Ionia by forcing her to stay here. It was a terrible grievance, but one she had managed to live with since the war began. Unfortunately for her master, it was not his only transgression.

He had limited her, stunted her growth out of nothing but his own foolish fear. She had been shackled without consent; no better than a slave. Still, this man felt he was in the right, like he was justified in robbing her of her agency. She was given no opportunity to do right, no opportunity to use her powers properly. Instead, she was punished for the mere potential of a crime, the potential to be great. Why then, did they not imprison Karma, Irelia, or every man and woman in Ionia for the potential to use their power for something the elders didn't approve of? It was injustice, and it was for this injustice that she sought retribution.

The girl turned back to the focus of her recent exhaustive effort. Her master lay motionless on the garden floor, barely breathing. It had taken everything she had to defeat her mentor with the inhibitors he had placed on her powers, but she had managed. The fact that she now stood over him despite his tampering with her magic justified her position even further. No matter what he did to stop her progress, she would rise above it. He was her final trial, and in her mind, she had passed with flying colors.

The battered man struggled to move his body, the best of his efforts earning him the slightest tilt of his head. The mage girl noticed this, and she leaned down toward him to engage with him again.

"Tell me, old man, do you still think what you did was just?" she asked.

The man used the last of his energy to meet her gaze, speaking out in raspy, strained words. "There is imbalance within you; even now, I can see that you are not ready."

The girl frowned at her master's words. It seemed he would fail to understand his mistakes even in the twilight of his life. "Then I will go out into the world unprepared, and I will fail, and learn, and grow, just like everyone else," she replied. "But most importantly," she continued, "I will do it as _me_. I will not live my life as a fraction of myself because of the hubris of an old man and a council of failing elders."

A smug smile pulled at the man's lips, and the girl immediately knew why. In his twisted, corrupted mind, her accusations reinforced his point. What manner of delusion must possess a man for him to view a desire to be free a reason as reason to keep them from that freedom? This man was insane, as were the elders he answered to, and the whole of Ionia suffered for it. The girl extended a hand toward the man's face, a preparation to finish what she had started.

"You will fail, Syndra."

How fitting that he would choose the single most annoying sentence in the world for his last words. If they had come from a man worth the air he breathed, they might have upset her. "I will transcend limits you never even thought possible, old man."

With that, she fired a bolt of energy through her former master's head, ending his pitiful life in a single swift instant. Within moments, she could feel a weight lift off of her body. Shackles that had been there so long that she thought they were natural were lifted, and magical energy coursed through her body. The surge of power overcame her, and Syndra collapsed onto her knees as she tried to cope with the new stress her body was being placed under. This power was hell, and it wouldn't stop growing. Previously subdued magic continuously surged into her being, increasing the burden on her faster than her body could acclimate. It wasn't long before she found herself consumed in a fit of desperate screaming and writhing, her eyes erupting with light from the sheer density of arcane energy condensed within her body.

Seconds passed like hours, and minutes passed like days, but through it all, she clung to her sense of self with an iron grip. This was torture far worse than anything she could conceive, but it was her only path to realizing her potential. She had cast away everything for this, and she would endure it no matter how bad it became, for such was the strength of Syndra, the rightful bearer of all of this power. This magic was hers, and it would not defeat her.

…A lone woman stood amidst the garden of an old Ionian temple, now the master of her own being.

Syndra looked around at the garden she stood in, the sight of flourishing nature helping to soothe her after her internal struggle. This temple was her prison, but the greatest victory of her life occurred within its confines. There was nothing she would love to do more than turn something that was used against her into something that served her. This place would be her home, and she would keep it with her always as a testament to her triumph.

Syndra cracked a faint smile as she succumbed to a flight of whimsy and stretched out her hands. Since this place was designed to hold her down, she would simply have to make it lift her up. Syndra exerted her will, and the very earth beneath her began to shake. Ancient untouched rock split at her whim, and the land itself bent to her will. With a sizeable effort, Syndra refocused herself, and the temple lifted off of the ground with small chunks of earth beneath it to serve as its foundation. She found the amount of energy needed to sustain her temple's flight, and dedicated it to its purpose, relieving her of the need to actively focus on keeping it afloat. Syndra took one last look at her master's body, bewilderment clouding her mind. She couldn't believe anyone could be foolish or arrogant enough to challenge this kind of power. She truly had relieved Ionia of an imbecile.

Syndra cast her gaze to the horizon as her temple lifted higher into the sky, and in it she saw the endless reach of her potential. It was time for the old to die, and the new to take its place.

* * *

 **A/N: Well this is it, the final chapter. This might be long, so I'm going to begin by saying thanks to everyone who stuck with the story this long. I can't emphasize enough how much I appreciate you giving your time to my first story, no matter how little or infrequently I post, or how much of a mess it is.**

 **To be honest, it was hard for me to find the motivation to end this story. Part of it was because a portion of me didn't want something I've been working on for over a year to come to an end, but a larger part of it was because of the new lore introduced into the canon by the upcoming Swain rework. It began with the Vastaya and Demacia updates and I was fine with it, but with the release of the Swain rework, nearly all of the canon that this story was based off of has been gradually replaced or revised, making both Should We Meet Again and the planned sequel essentially AU fics. That being said, I do still plan on writing the sequel, though I haven't decided if it will have perfect continuity with Should We Meet Again or if I will retcon some of the new lore into the sequel story. Whatever the case, it will take some time for me to properly plan out the sequel, so unfortunately it is still some way off.**

 **Thanks again for reading. I hope you guys keep enjoying League of Legends and the wonderful fan creations that are born from it.**

 **-Ulfcloak**


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